Intermission: A rather big, side-argument

A week is a long time in publishing. I had a blog entry prepared as a counter argument for traditional print publishing (see my previous blog entry) but was unable to publish it without spending a little while editing the thing together. I spent last week on the lovely island of Rhodes for my sister’s wedding and as this was the first time my young family had travelled abroad, it took an inordinate amount of time to prepare one two year old and a five month pregnant wife for the journey and the heat; a lot of packing and preparation for just one week, granted, but like writing you can’t always rush these things.

It meant having to delay the blog entry, and last week three notable pieces subsequently appeared in the Press about just the very subject, rendering some of my own arguments repetitive. The first, and most notable, was a piece in the Guardian, which more than alluded to the point I’ve been making about traditional publishing and ostriches, that is denying the inevitable. It’s a good piece and the most realistic vision of where publishing is going and why, something some traditional publishers are not accepting which will be to their dire consequence, I fear. The other two pieces are in last Sunday’s Times’ Culture Magazine (an interesting view on where publishing is going and how it will be revolutionised, which while not completely new to most readers, is certainly a good summary) and a piece in this month’s SFX.
Of these two latter pieces, the SFX one is perhaps the most interesting given that it’s the most honest reply to the ereading phenomena by publishers (Julie Crisp, Tor, Jo Fletcher) and agents (John Jarrold). John particularly, as it is one of John’s previous clients, Ian Hocking, who is finding success doing precisely what publishers fear, going solo and doing rather well out of it with his books Déjà Vu and the recent sequel, Flashback. To paraphrase, despite the danger of doing so with something so political, there is no denial that the landscape is changing and John makes a valid point that it isn’t publishers who will decide the future now, it’s the reader, wishing to chose between a 70p book and a £7.99 book.
Though I think really traditional publishing has this in their own hands, as their reluctance to embrace ebooks with ridiculous pricing and availability, is driving readers to mid-list authors who have turned up their noses to miserly and almost criminal royalties on digital editions. As the Guardian says explicitly, traditional publishing’s reaction to ebooks has been to treat it at best as an elephant in the room and at worst a pariah, despite creating the beast in the first place.
Julie Crisp is honest in that while these are interesting times for publishing, they are also precarious. She revels in the technology but is probably aware that the freedom for writers and self-publishing can only damage traditional publishing given that Tor and Macmillan still average their ebooks at hardback and paperback prices, something I had to complain about during my time with them, though to be fair I suspect this had little editorial decision about it (and I know for sure this wasn't down to their digital division either during my conversations with them) but more the publisher’s bean counters who have an alarming lack of business sense. Harsh? Perhaps, but harsh words are needed for traditional publishing to survive.

The fact is, and this is mentioned widely now in the Press and in forums and blogs, is that traditional publishing is cutting off its own feet. It’s alienating its authors and its readers, and doing both will only destroy what traditional publishing is. True, ebooks won’t replace printed books completely, but the digital revolution will help fund how printed books find their way to readers too. As I see it there are only two obstacles for ebooks to get an ascendency, the first is proper editorial input. The second is a credible blog or website dedicated to reviewing self-published e-books, one with a good reputation and as credible as any literary journalism found in mainstream press. The first obstacle can be handled by just hiring a good copy-editor, and the second will be come along any day now. When this happens, it will change things - it will introduce quality control removing the final counter-argument from traditional publishing.
Publishers should beware, I think.

Still coming up: the other argument for ebooks…

Argument: in favour of pages

I’m a big fan of ebooks. Let me state that first.

A couple of years back I was hobnobbing with an editor and copy editor from Hachette Livre who were lamenting the gradual demise of paper-based publishing, aware that ebooks weren’t just the future but the end of traditional publishing. As an author, ebooks and epublishing is exciting. It unshackles creativity, and while it isn’t regulated or quality-controlled, I honestly believe that’s the whole point of art and creativity, to transcend boundaries and be free. The downside is that sometimes what you get is a little rough, or hewn badly, or in some cases utterly crap. You get that in any work of art though, where charlatans pass themselves off as geniuses.

But it works the other way too with gate-keepers; where good artists find themselves without a voice, or they’re shouted down by the latter-day guardians of the public word, gate-keepers in the industry who are no longer in a position to take a risk on the untried and are driven to decisions by accountants rather than instinct. Publishing is a business, and no one will tell you different except those wanting to be published.

But while traditional publishing hangs on with its fingers, authors are becoming frustrated and impatient. Too frustrated and impatient to wait for traditional publishing to discover them, it seems.

As I write, I’m reading an ebook by Ian Hocking calledDéjà Vu, a book that went into print on a limited basis, yet has not found a commercial publisher, which is a bloody mystery, really. To be frank, it’s a fucking good book, and one that any self-respecting science fiction fan should own. That’s not just my opinion, but the growing number of fans Ian Hocking has attracted since eschewing traditional publishing (trad publishing which had failed Ian, not by the want of trying but because they weren’t prepared to take a risk on someone who has talent, for inexplicable reasons). By going the route of ebooks it will – hopefully – give Dr Hocking the rewards he finally deserves.

Just as it has to many other authors who are now receiving attention after trad publishing cast them out or turned them down.

~

However, there is a downside to this autonomy. As epublishing grows and trad publishing shrinks (which it’s doing now) something is being lost. Something quite important.

You see, for all the freedom ebooks and epublishing gives, there’s nothing like a paper book, and there is an argument that has been forgotten in the whole great brouhaha of publishing and why paper books are superior. An argument that transcends the usual complaints that “you can read a paperback in the bath” or “a paperback is cheaper than an ereader”, or my personal favourite: “the batteries for my paperback never run out.”

Nor is the argument I’m alluding to about the smell of books. I can do without smelly books, to be fair. That whole musty-book smell makes me sad actually, reminding me that one day the books will get too fragile to open and will scatter like autumn leaves on a blustery day, losing page after page before becoming a wholly irrelevant story, absent minded and then lost for good.

Age is not good for books. Especially paperbacks.

Nor is it the tangible thing either. Paper books are awkward – if you want to save their spines. Open a book too far while you’re drinking coffee or eating a sandwich and their back will break. I don’t do it on purpose. It can be unavoidable. Sometimes books don’t want you to see inside and are so tightly shut, you must break them to read their words, and I despair when I feel that “crick” of the spine, or the groan of binding rupturing under my efforts. That’s tangible, but it feels abusive as well. I want to get some stickers that say “Mind me back, love… Books have feelings too.”

So if it isn’t the smell, and isn’t the feel, and it isn’t some foolish nostalgia that keeps me from embracing utterly the digitised word, then what is it?

Well, for me it’s the presence. It’s the standing on the shelf an inch thick, or three or four inches, displaying its edges like a shy peacock, knowing when it is time, the fanning out of those printed pages will be glorious. It’s the covers, gaudy or subtle, the writing on the spine announcing a story so sublime or preposterous or magical that you’ll doubt what’s real by the final sentence. A good cover isn’t something that should be cobbled together on Photoshop, I believe, but one that should be meticulously constructed and loved like taking a photo of a particular event. Sure, experiencing the event is more important than the photo, but a memento keeps it alive, and for me that’s what a good cover does, and what ultimately the physical presence of the book gives. It’s a memento of a wonderful journey. A memento that speaks to me.

You see, paper books are there for all to see and remember. When I walk into my study, I am beaten back by a cacophony of voices, of different pitches, of different sexes, sometimes different languages, and ages, and races, of times past and future, as well as present - with thousands upon thousands of stories, pouring invisibly from the spines of millions of pages, standing on the platforms and arches of a study that has been transformed from a place of writing into a city of novels. They perch precariously on the edge of shelves, balance on bridges across rivers of wiring that power the two laptops I write on, down to supporting the entire desk and the weight of more tomes that sit there. I have books to the left of me, books to the right, and here I am, not so much stuck in the middle but immersed in the words, surrounded and not unlike the feeling you get when you walk upon the streets of New York for the first time. The books tower. They really do, and my god, I love it.

Could you do the same with a Kindle?

Nope.

Which is why, for me, ebooks will never replace normal books, just as digital photography will never stop people from printing photos. Sure we no longer print all of our photos now, nor in the near future will we buy all our books from traditional publishing. That’s just how things change. But the word on the paper will almost certainly continue as printed photographs do, if only to remind us of the places we have been and enjoyed.

Next up: “Argument: why pixels are a good thing for pixies”

Time’s Repairman takes a calculated risk

Today I christened the new book by writing 6,500 words on the opening chapters. By the end of the week I will have written 10,000 words on THE FIXER OF CLOCKS, and you know it hasn’t been so difficult so far (ack – kiss of death!). Compared to past projects, there’s very little research needed, other than asking a few friends about working as nurses in their respective hospitals, and the internet has been a good source of information too (in the absence of actually going to Manchester to do the research – something I’ll be doing in the coming weeks – Google street map is a damn fine way of taking a walk around a neighbourhood you've never been to).

I tell ya, it feels good to be writing a contemporary book for once too, not having to worry about what people wore, what they said, what they ate and drank, and that no one has TVs, or internet or mobile phones and you can get around in things that are more efficient that hansom cabs or ponies. Life is more complicated true, but the 21^st century is a place I’m more at home with I guess.

(Image: www.freeimages.co.uk)

Other stuff I can divulge about the new novel is that it is set in Wythenshawe’s university hospital, as well as the town of Altrincham and Manchester city centre, and the main character is called Alan Walsh, a charge nurse looking after an amnesiac who once “repaired time.” Other than that, I can say it’s an apocalyptic story that’s as much about taking things for granted as it is about the end of the world, but it’s also about hope and realising that if shit happens, it won’t happen forever. Life repairs itself, as well as time. So yeah, it’s an uplifting story too – but grim. Desperately grim in places.

For the next 9 to 10 weeks I will be fixated on the FIXER and I can’t think of a better way to spend my time, even more so as I’ve reduced my day-job hours again to cope with the pressures of writing. By dropping my hours I’m dropping my wage, but family Curran is taking a calculated risk. In-goings and out-goings have been ruthlessly investigated and even if this writing malarkey goes pear-shaped, we won’t be in the shit, so that’s one thing. After all banking your livelihood on the publishing world surviving troubled times such as these, is like betting on a horse with three legs. It’s not so wise, yet writers are passionate people, and inventive. We’ll get our writing out by whatever means necessary, and even make it pay – so don’t worry folks, transmission will resume on one channel or another.

But the real bonus is balancing work with my writing and my family. Now I’ll be working just 24 hours a week, writing for 10 hours, and spending the rest of the time with my wife and son. How it should be done. I might even be able to squeeze some publicity time in somewhere (like this blog for instance). So all in all, it’s a fucking great way to start 2011 and a positive step forward into a year which is uncertain for so many reasons…

New Years revolutions

This year, for the first time in many, I haven’t made any new years resolutions. Is not that I’m shit at them, lasting but a few weeks mainly, but because life is too complicated and regimented enough without feeling obliged to chuck in a resolution or two for the sake of tradition. I have stealth resolutions, if you will, ones that I adhere to for the sake of my art, my health and general sanity. Ryan David Jahn has a good set of writers resolutions up on his blog, and I realise that I pretty much do most of these by default anyway, though admittedly I need to be healthier when time allows it. I walk a lot, so it isn’t all bad, and anyone who knows Sheffield knows that walking up and down its hills with an infant’s buggy will definitely burn those calories. But it’s the writing calories that I worry about more, the imaginative love-handles that collect during the down-time, especially the Christmas period, and I’m just itching to get lean again.

This week I handed in the rewrite of The Black Hours, a book I’m pretty pleased with and one that has improved in leaps and bounds since my previous publishers took a pass at it. I’m like a dog with a Frisbee with projects I believe in, and thankfully my agent agrees that this is a book worth persevering with. With The Black Hours done and dusted, however, that leaves me with a quandary for 2011’s project.

Those who have visited the blog before (and I should start 2011 with an apology to regular readers who may have noted a dearth of blog entries here – sorry folks, but a man has got to write his books to get by, right?), will know that in 2010 I completed the first attempts on two projects: the third Secret War novel (The Traitor of Light) and the start of a new series of books called Purgatory. Both projects were difficult to write, being completely different beasts to each other and written under tough writing conditions. I was happy with these attempts but with Purgatory I knew it was a roughly hewn rock even then, than a polished attempt at a new story. So after discussing the project with my agent, it’s been left to gestate underground for a little while longer, before the sediment settles and I can get a better diamond out of it.

The Traitor of Light is a different – ahem – story altogether. I’m very happy with how this has gone and it doesn’t need as much work on it as Purgatory, but I’m very much aware that the Secret War is a series without a home and rather than knuckle down for a year writing something that will not see print for some time, we’ve come to the conclusion that starting afresh, as I have done with The Black Hours, would lay more groundwork on snaring a publisher for the Secret War books. That doesn’t mean the Secret War series is dead, it’s just sleeping, as vulcanologists put it (- damn, I should stop with these geology references!).

What this means, is that 2011 will be the year of THE FIXER OF CLOCKS, a novel that will be a new direction for me. For one, it’s the first book I’ve written for about 15 years that is set in the 21^st century (though it will be one that leans towards the 1980’s in tone), and for another it will be more science fiction than historical fiction or horror or fantasy. It’s quite a different animal, quite grim as well, with a very downbeat conclusion, but then I think it’s healthy to pursue different directions in ones writing, to kept it fresh, you know?

As for my writing regime, well due to various pressures both in my domestic and day-job life I’ve had to cut down on the publicity side of things (as is apparent from my lack of blog entries here) and there are things going on in the background to secure more time for family life as I balance everything whilst getting this book to you, the faithful reader.

There are no resolutions here, just the norm. Just the same 10,000 words a week I do during any other project, and THE FIXER OF CLOCKS will be no different.

But we will see what the year brings as change is something I’m used to. I know that other projects in the pipeline (including a proposal to Black Library) will change much in the coming months if they go ahead this year, including pointing me towards the exit in my day-job – which can’t come any sooner for both myself and my long-suffering writing-widowed family – and would secure a future for my books to come.

Like 2010, 2011 will be an interesting year. Unlike 2010, this year will be better managed and even though the outlook for authors and publishers alike is far from rosy, people still like to read books, and hopefully they’ll want to read the next MFW Curran novel – whether that’s The Black Hours, The Fixer of Clocks or The Secret War book 3.

Happy new year to you all

---MFWC