JE: In recent days, we four at Three Guys have been discussing the trials and travails of authordom, from the rigors of composition, to the art of absorbing rejection, to the epic and often fruitless journey to finding an agent, to finding a publisher, to building a readership, and now it seems a logical progression would be to talk about what an author might do to help his cause in the arena of bookselling. What happens to a book after it emerges hot from the printing press is for the author perhaps the most baffling process of all. My associates DH, JC, and JR, have about forty years combined experience in the book biz on the selling and distro side of things, and I was hoping with this segment to elicit information from them which might serve to de-mystify this side of the business for writers. Let’s start with Dennis Haritou. For starters, DH, could you explain briefly what considerations go into a wholesaler buyers decision to push a book?
DH: One way retail and wholesale buyers make decisions is by finding common ground between at least part of their customer base and the book. Maybe debut novelists could use the same technique to introduce themselves. If the writer grew up in Atlanta and their novel takes place there, then talk about growing up Southern. If the novel covers the LA music scene, or mothers and daughters, or a middle age crisis, or life in the suburbs, or dairy farming, or being dyslexic, or camping, or baseball, or growing up in a family of bodybuilders…well, you get the idea. Even if your novel is fantastic….then share the astonishment of improbable events, different dimensions, legends and strange tales….why does that stuff intrigue you? The average book lover relates, even to fiction, topically; and that’s also a factor in how retail/wholesale book buyers purchase novels. First find common ground with your potential reader, share the astonishment you feel…only then, I’m guessing, will you have an audience primed to receive your debut effort. Guys..do you think that’s helpful?
JE: I think it’s excellent advice, and something I understood intuitively in profiling booksellers for Lulu, which you have stated here eloquently, DH.
JR: I think the gatekeepers are looking for a certain “kind” of book to appeal to a shrinking audience. How many people read literary fiction? Sure, we all say yes, of course, lots of people do, but that’s us, in our world. If first timers write their book to be a certain way because they want it to sell, make it about the South, or about a kid just out of college trying to get laid, then do they also have to think about who it will appeal to, does that affect thinking and desperation affect debut writers writing? I think readers need to identify, but literary fiction doesn’t always have to be entertainment, like a lot of the genre material fobbed on the world every season. Are debut novelists trapped in their own obsessed worlds, and are they broken down eventually, shaped, and molded by the system to create something that will sell? I hear things like, “I didn’t like the structure of your book, it wasn’t executed well, or the slightly non-linear narrative was hard to follow.”
Well, shit me a river, I’m sorry it’s not the back of a fucking shampoo bottle. Do debut authors have to lay out a pretty stone lined walkway for readers to follow along? Finding common ground with a buyer? Sure, that will get the buyer to feel better. But no buyer will ever buy something because he or she likes it, they’d lose their job in a season. Did Chuck Palahniuk think about his audience and try to identify with them, or hope that his book Fight Club would appeal to a common ground with the buyer at B&N when he wrote it, toiling away in that book group of his for years? I’ll eat JE’s hat if that’s true. I know for a fact that his editor Gerry Howard told him he couldn’t have a main character talk to the other main character, because they were the same person, told him flat out, “you can’t do that”. That book is a high water mark for me, it broke the door open, forever, for debuts, and it meant you could do whatever you wanted if you were trying to write a literary novel. The mainstream dictates what is published and bought by the ever shrinking world of retail, I know, because I sell it everyday, and it’s the same stuff day in and day out.
JE: Nobody’s eating my hat. I need it to cover the dorsal fin on top of my head. Second of all, call me a snob, but I’m not much interested in fiction that is created with the marketplace in mind. In fact, I’m not much interested in any art that’s created under the pretense of commercial viability. Finding an audience is one thing, writing to a market is another. Screw that. That’s why I left talk radio: Program Directors handing me demographic studies about what songs “Generation Jones” wants to hear for bumpers, what subjects the 18-34 year old male wants to talk about, producers insisting that I call women callers “chicks,” and asking them if they’re hot. All because Tom Leykis’s numbers suggested that that sort of crap sold. The artist should dictate the market, not vice versa. It’s the artist who has his finger on the pulse of culture, not the bean-counters and the marketing research stooges! I know that’s not how it works, but damnit, that’s how it works in my world! JC, what in you experience does it take for you to champion a title? And do you concur with JR that no buyer will buy a book simply because they like it?
JC: No, I think that most buyers will buy a book that they like; they just won’t buy much of it. Exceptions apply, of course. Some buyers will make a book their personal crusade for a month or a season, making sure it gets placement and attention. Also, you have the market makers – those who are big enough, and can command enough marketing and publicity power to make the book ubiquitous on the shelves. There are downfalls to both situations. JR, DH and I have all been in the unusual situation of the wholesale buyer, where you can have all the enthusiasm in the world about a book, but have very little control over how it sells. You can’t move the book to the front of the warehouse – all you can do is suggest to your sales staff that they should push it.
The analytics of book buying and selling is more rigid than ever (I’m sure a lot of our publisher friends can speak to another side of this) and so many books are now bought and sold on data and comps with an eye toward turn and fill and return rates. Everyone has their bottom line to watch. You can make your gambles, and if you are right you’re a hero, but you have to answer for what you get wrong. So most buyers hedge their bets. In my darkest hours, I worry that the art of the book buyer will disappear after the current generation, replaced by automatons and download heuristics. But then I remember that there are places where the buyer reigns: independents and niche markets.
There is a disconnect between what we, as readers, want to see, and what the industry needs in terms of maint
aining a viable market. And there is a bit of elitism to it. We all write our columns and blogs about the books we love and authors we follow, but the collective sales of the books we champion are but a tiny corner of the market. I guess one question I have is where would the book market be without those carefully calculated marketing machines? Would readers who currently vault those books onto bestseller list find another, hopefully better, book to read, or just another form of entertainment? Would those gaps in the market be filled with eat literature or would the book market collapse such that the book store as we know it would disappear? Something has to fill the vacuum. We’ve talked about this before in other places. The vast majority of books are going to be quickly forgotten, dust in the wind, just like 99.9% of all the songs recorded last year, and the same rate of paintings, and any other art form you care to name. We can moan and gnash our teeth about the quality of contemporary arts, but it’s no different than what has always been. And, just like the dozens or hundreds of authors who decided to write westerns in their heyday, or noir crime novels when they grew in popularity, or the next Gone with the Wind after that success, authors today, and their publishers are going to try to piggyback on some of whatever trend is hitting the streets. That’s not going to go away, and it probably shouldn’t. It doesn’t really bother me if that’s what people want to read. I’ll read what I want and I’ll look for those who buck the trend, and do something that I’ve never seen before. We’re fortunate that so much good stuff is being published today, even if we have to sift through a load of crap to uncover it.
aining a viable market. And there is a bit of elitism to it. We all write our columns and blogs about the books we love and authors we follow, but the collective sales of the books we champion are but a tiny corner of the market. I guess one question I have is where would the book market be without those carefully calculated marketing machines? Would readers who currently vault those books onto bestseller list find another, hopefully better, book to read, or just another form of entertainment? Would those gaps in the market be filled with eat literature or would the book market collapse such that the book store as we know it would disappear? Something has to fill the vacuum. We’ve talked about this before in other places. The vast majority of books are going to be quickly forgotten, dust in the wind, just like 99.9% of all the songs recorded last year, and the same rate of paintings, and any other art form you care to name. We can moan and gnash our teeth about the quality of contemporary arts, but it’s no different than what has always been. And, just like the dozens or hundreds of authors who decided to write westerns in their heyday, or noir crime novels when they grew in popularity, or the next Gone with the Wind after that success, authors today, and their publishers are going to try to piggyback on some of whatever trend is hitting the streets. That’s not going to go away, and it probably shouldn’t. It doesn’t really bother me if that’s what people want to read. I’ll read what I want and I’ll look for those who buck the trend, and do something that I’ve never seen before. We’re fortunate that so much good stuff is being published today, even if we have to sift through a load of crap to uncover it.
DH: The dsytopian outlook of my colleagues is not for me. I see some resemblance between forms of internet communication today and the hot fever communication skills of the Italian Renaissance where you had bankers, philosophers, poets, priests, soldiers, all sorts of professional people who could write, exchanging essays and asking their friends to criticize their compositions. Bloggers, online literary magazines…including the ones that publish JR’s work, discussions like the one we are having which will be available for most people in the world to read, the great literary tips on what I should be reading that I get from my Twitter friends, (Find me on Twitter please. Help me to read.); these opportunities to show cultural leadership…they’re sprouting like mushrooms in the soft, boggy ground.
There is no reason to feel embattled if you are culturally sophisticated. And there is no reason to dumb down your work. There are enough people who are already dumb. You don’t have to help them at it. If you want additional suggestions, aside from trying to find common ground with readers, then here are two:
1. Encourage book lovers to write. Everyone has a story. Writers should encourage everyone to tell their story. That’s one good way to find the best stories. And one of the best ways to get a book lover to appreciate good writing.
2. Let’s have more infighting about literature. Enough with the ass-kissing for gosh sakes. For once I’d like to hear blurb-meister Stephen King say: “This novel stinks.” I think the best thing that could happen would be that readers fought over the merits of a book.
As for the book buyer’s numbers game that JC has referred to, the finding of comp titles, the cynicism about the plebeian tastes of most readers….who, distressingly enough…must be considered sophisticated in comparison to those who don’t read at all…that’s not what it’s about. Here’s a marketplace argument in favor of the arts: By trying to reach as many people as possible, we might increase our chances of finding those few people who really know how to appreciate serious work.
…And since since I’ve known you, Jonathan, I’ve bought two hats. Can’t be a coincidence since I don’t wear hats.
JE: I’m with you on the infighting, DH. My book sucks! My next one is gonna’ suck, too! It reminds me of something Chuck Adams pointed to when talking about acquiring Brock Clarke’s “An Arsonists Guide to Writer’s Homes in New England.” He said the book was extremely divisive in-house, but the fact that everybody felt passionate about it, helped convince
him that he had to publish it. Go look at the Amazon reviews for that book– they’re no different: lots of fives and ones.
him that he had to publish it. Go look at the Amazon reviews for that book– they’re no different: lots of fives and ones.
JR: For about a year I had the unique position of being a buyer for FSG and some other imprints and being a sales manager (I’m still in sales, just lost the buying duties), so when I was thrilled about a book I bought, I took it to the streets and sold the shit out of it, helped that I bought it with that in mind, 2666 for instance ( I was really bullish about this, in both formats and rolled the dice with a huge buy), Castle, Pieces for the Left Hand, Lush Life, and when I got good reviews I took that to the street as well, and sold more. Where I work we have a direct line to the chains and indies as well as the bigger fish, so when something pops, we can sell it up to those folks. But it was unique, and it was too good to last, now I just sell the shit out of the books I know are hot, authors who will work in my stores that I sell to, and have developed a repuatation of knowing what’s going to work where, and what’s literary.
Don’t get me wrong I’m not throwing bouquets at myself (tons of stuff just dies, no matter how much I like it, but the fact is…I liked it), just stating that if you buckle down and read the books you sell, read blogs, write blogs, talk to authors, inteview them, look under rocks, take a shot at something like All About Lulu (which I did, turned out JE and I are from the same part of the world and know a lot of the same people, but that was just kismet) and suddenly you’ve developed a vernacular about contemporary literature, it took some doing, but it was worth it.
I remember sitting in sales conference my first year at Random House (then BDD) when Mitch Albom’s book Tuesdays with Morrie was being presented (the room is filled with sales reps, and a handful of publishers who are literally presenting their list to the reps, it takes all day) and no one, I mean no one had a clue that this book and author would become something. A story about a guy who interviews his teacher? Snore….was the feeling, although no one said it. Which leads me to feel that sales people can make or break a book, but how many books can you get behind now, there are so many, but do you have to treat them like widgets, it helps if you know what works, who authors are and what a track record means. Previous sales, an interview on Bold Type, or a mention on Maud Newton, I can use that, now that the Internet is where books are made…seriously.
I wonder what kind of fighting went on at Doubleday when the brilliant Bill Thomas brought The Futurist into an acquisition meeting? Unknown author, (amazing book) and how do you sell that? Do the big fish at Doubleday pay for the Aimee Benders
n>, and early Colson Whiteheads, (both are stars now, but what about their early books). Does Jonathan Lethem hold as much sway now as he did with the insanely powerful Motherless Brooklyn…? These books I just mentioned bucked convention, they set their own pace.
n>, and early Colson Whiteheads, (both are stars now, but what about their early books). Does Jonathan Lethem hold as much sway now as he did with the insanely powerful Motherless Brooklyn…? These books I just mentioned bucked convention, they set their own pace.
The writers I love don’t overtly have an engine, or leave me hanging, but it’s a slow boil, like The Corrections, or this new book I’m reading, The Big Machine, which isn’t an engine, overtly, but it’s mysterious, and I want to figure that out. Plus the guy is funny, so that helps. James Frey told me that there is room out there for everyone, well….he might be right…but there is a lot out there. But if retailers only stock things that sell, stuff just like everything else, where does this leave people with real voices? I don’t care who buys it, for what wholesaler, if it comes back as a return, what will the publisher do? I just realized this isn’t at all what JE wanted me to talk about, or what the other guys have said, sorry for that.
JE: Yeah, and you’re starting to repeat yourself, too. I swear, that James Frey quote is gonna’ be your epitaph. But you’re right, there’s just so many titles out there. This fall is going to be an interesting season. A lot of “big” books, and a lot of really good books hitting the shelves– frankly, I’m glad mine’s not one of them. DH recently commented on the strength of Knopf’s fall list, and how if all he read was Knopf’s list, he wouldn’t have time to read anything else. PGW’s Keith Arsenault was commenting the other day over lunch (read: beers) on the size and strength of Harper’s fall list, and how booksellers are asking him: How am I supposed to get all these titles on my shelf? Somethings gotta’ give, right? Collectively, we gotta’ start making readers. I’ve got some more ideas about how book culture could seize a bigger piece of the cultural pie, but I’ll save them for another discussion.
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