A Shattered Paradigm

I have read hun­dreds of books on writ­ing. Con­ser­v­a­tive­ly fig­ur­ing an aver­age of 15 per year, over 24 years that makes 360 books on the sub­ject. Books on voice, style, gram­mar, plot­ting, dia­logue, point of view, syn­tax, nar­ra­tion, descrip­tion, char­ac­ter­i­za­tion, nov­el writ­ing, tech­ni­cal writ­ing, short sto­ry writ­ing, non­fic­tion writ­ing, query writ­ing, get­ting an agent and get­ting pub­lished. But, none about what it means to be your own pub­lish­er. And none specif­i­cal­ly about how to go for­ward as a writer dur­ing this time of the rise of e‑publishing and the slow, inex­orable decline of print pub­lish­ing.

I often go to my book­cas­es for tried-and-true books on aspects of writ­ing I’m hav­ing prob­lems with, but for help on this issue, like Old Moth­er Hub­bard I’ve found the cup­boards bare. Even the few books about mar­ket­ing can’t help me. Less than 2 years old, they’re already woe­ful­ly out of date.

The trou­ble is, the par­a­digm I’ve been labor­ing under for 20-odd years is now shat­tered, and I’ve been try­ing in vain to sal­vage some of the pieces. It’s as though I’ve dropped a fam­i­ly heir­loom vase and am in denial about its shat­tered state.

Ye Olde Pub­lish­ing Par­a­digm (the one that ruled for cen­turies):

Writer learns craft, maybe works at a news­pa­per for a while, gets a few short sto­ries pub­lished. Writes a nov­el, per­haps a few, and gets an agent. Agent con­tacts the major pub­lish­ers, sells the book (tak­ing 15% in the process). Author gets an advance against roy­al­ties (a loan, not free mon­ey). Pub­lish­er nego­ti­ates rights of first refusal on author’s next two books, pub­lish­es the first book 18 months lat­er, hope­ful­ly in pres­ti­gious hard­cov­er. Then trade paper, then mass-mar­ket (pock­et-sized) paper­back. If the author is lucky, some­one from Hol­ly­wood con­tacts his agent to option (not buy) the book for a film that, chances are, will nev­er get made. In the mean­time the book has hope­ful­ly made its way into book­stores, where read­ers are hope­ful­ly buy­ing it and lov­ing it. There may be oth­er sub­sidiary steps I missed but this is the gen­er­al idea:

Writer –> Agent –> Pub­lish­er –> Book­store –> Read­er

The 21st Cen­tu­ry Pub­lish­ing Par­a­digm: The writer is the pub­lish­er. She writes what she wants to write, and when she pub­lish­es it, it goes direct­ly to read­ers for their pur­chase and enjoy­ment. There are no gate­keep­ers like agents and tra­di­tion­al pub­lish­ers pre­vent­ing the writer from reach­ing read­ers direct­ly. In fact, the only inter­me­di­ary is the com­pa­ny that owns the deliv­ery sys­tem, or bookstore—Amazon’s Kin­dle Direct Pub­lish­ing, B&N’s Nook, Smash­words, iBooks, etc.

Writer –> Book­store –> Read­er

In case you missed it, in the New Par­a­digm two large and obsti­nate obstruc­tions between the writer and the read­er have been removed.

As I said in my arti­cle of a few weeks ago about why I’m pub­lish­ing my mys­tery series on Kin­dle, and as I said to half a dozen news­pa­pers dur­ing my self-made pub­lic­i­ty “jun­ket,” a writer writes to be read, not to be forced to jump through hoops and told that the mar­ket won’t like what the writer is writ­ing. My response to that old chest­nut is one of the most basic prin­ci­ples of free mar­ket eco­nom­ics: let the mar­ket decide what it likes.

When I look at my shelves of hard­cov­er fic­tion, I feel a pang of sad­ness for some­thing that will prob­a­bly nev­er be: my own writ­ing in pres­ti­gious hard­cov­er, with acid-free paper, an eye-catch­ing cov­er and the logo of a major pub­lish­er on the spine. Even worse, nowa­days when I look at these once proud vol­umes (the pin­na­cle of book tech­nol­o­gy), it’s as though I’m see­ing liv­ing fos­sils. I know some­thing impor­tant with­out a lot of evi­dence for it: The vast major­i­ty of print books are going to fade away, to be replaced by slim­mer, sharp­er, more pow­er­ful tablets.

One piece of evi­dence I have for this is that there are suc­cess­ful, tra­di­tion­al­ly pub­lished authors out there who have switched to self-pub­lish­ing exclu­sive­ly. In his thor­ough primer on elec­tron­ic self-pub­lish­ing, Let’s Get Dig­i­tal, David Gaugh­ran pro­files an author named Bob May­er, whose last three book deals pri­or to self-pub­lish­ing totaled over a mil­lion dol­lars. Yet, May­er walked away from tra­di­tion­al pub­lish­ing and now self-pub­lish­es his work. “The main dif­fer­ence,” May­er says, “is that I have more con­trol than I ever did in tra­di­tion­al pub­lish­ing.”

My point is, when com­mer­cial­ly suc­cess­ful writ­ers like Bob May­er are leav­ing tra­di­tion­al pub­lish­ing behind, how long will it be before the Stephen Kings and Tom Clan­cys of the world begin to leave it as well?

We’re wit­ness­ing a rare occurrence—an over­lap in evo­lu­tion, like when Nean­derthal man exist­ed on the plan­et at the same time as Homo sapi­ens. Nean­derthal man was stronger and prob­a­bly should have sur­vived, but Homo sapi­ens was smarter, and did.

So, what is a writer to do who has oper­at­ed under the old par­a­digm for all of his adult life? Sud­den­ly, with no gate­keep­ers in his way, he can pub­lish (from the Latin pub­li­care - to announce, to make pub­lic) any­thing he wants, any­time he wants, reach­ing read­ers direct­ly while reap­ing the lion’s share of the prof­its. This being the case, should he con­tin­ue to pur­sue main­stream pub­li­ca­tion or rep­re­sen­ta­tion? If so, why? For pres­tige? To fill a need for out­side approval? Assum­ing one’s writ­ing is of qual­i­ty, how is print pub­li­ca­tion any better—any more pres­ti­gious or virtuous—than e‑publishing? Are the words of The Great Gats­by any less poet­ic and utter­ly per­fect pre­sent­ed in e‑ink than they are in print? No. In fact, I sub­mit that you could paint those words on a dark cave wall and they would still be as great. Great writ­ing is great writ­ing, regard­less of the medi­um in which it’s pub­lished or who decid­ed to pub­lish it.

One of the key tenets of the old pub­lish­ing par­a­digm was that as gate­keep­ers, agents and edi­tors ensured that only good qual­i­ty writ­ing reached read­ers. Writ­ing that did­n’t meet cer­tain stan­dards was reject­ed. Whether or not their role as gate­keep­ers has been of ser­vice to read­ers is debat­able; but what isn’t debat­able is the idea that read­ers deserve mate­r­i­al that is well writ­ten. And with writ­ers now fill­ing the roles of agent and pub­lish­er for our work (or real­ly pub­lish­er and pub­li­cist), it behooves all of us only to pub­lish the best writ­ing we can write.

We all need to become our own best edi­tors, too, learn­ing the rules and craft of writ­ing inside-out so that our work is indis­tin­guish­able in qual­i­ty from any work pub­lished by “pro­fes­sion­al,” tra­di­tion­al pub­lish­ers. Doing this en masse is the only way to defeat the hack­neyed argu­ment by the pub­lish­ing estab­lish­ment that self-pub­lished work is infe­ri­or in qual­i­ty. Doing this will raise the over­all qual­i­ty, ben­e­fit­ing all writ­ers and, more impor­tant­ly, our read­ers.

One of the rea­sons I wrote this piece was to think this issue through for myself, because like a lot of writ­ers who labored under the old par­a­digm, I’m now unsure about how I should pro­ceed. Every­thing has changed. But one thing that has­n’t changed is the writ­ing itself. The writ­ing is going to be good or bad, and will come eas­i­ly or with dif­fi­cul­ty, no mat­ter how it is pub­lished. How­ev­er, now that the bar­ri­ers to read­ers have been removed, we writ­ers don’t have the pub­lish­ing indus­try as a scape­goat any­more. The only lim­i­ta­tion on how much we pub­lish, and its qual­i­ty, is our­selves.

So, as for myself, I know what I have to do, and it’s the same thing I’ve done every day in one form or anoth­er, and that’s just write. Write the best I can, every day, and then decide what’s worth pub­lish­ing.

 

By Chris Orcutt

CHRIS ORCUTT is an American novelist and fiction writer with over 30 years' writing experience and more than a dozen books in his oeuvre. Since 2015, Chris been working exclusively on his magnum opus. Bodaciously True & Totally Awesome: The Legendary Adventures of Avery “Ace” Craig is a 9-episode novel about teens in the 1980s. It’s about ’80s teens, but for adults (in other words, it’s decidedly not YA literature), and he’s applied this epic storytelling approach to the least examined, most misunderstood, most marginalized narrative space in American literature: the lives and inner worlds of teenagers.

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