Month: July 2014

Folks
interested in the publishing industry know that Amazon, the world’s
largest online bookstore, has been in a pissing contest with
Hachette, one of the planet’s largest publishing houses, over
e-book sales. The details have long been murky but all of the
reporting suggested that Amazon wanted e-book prices to be lower
than Hachette and other major publishers did. In fact, Hachette and
four other major publishers recently settled a case in which they
colluded with Apple to hike the price of e-books. (Disclosure: the
founder of Amazon, Jeff Bezos, has been a supporter of Reason Foundation, the nonprofit that
publishes Reason.com)

While negotiating new rates, Amazon slowed down its fulfillment
of new Hachette titles (the house’s labels include Grand Central,
Little Brown, and Hyperion) and stopped discounting them too. That
tactic earned Amazon the scorn of the literati, which likened the
site to Russian autocrat Vladimir Putin and worse. Best-selling
authors such as Malcolm Gladwell and James Patterson were livid at
Amazon and their concerns were widely voiced by members of the
elite media at places such as The New York Times.
I wrote a few months ago that I thought it was really weird to
see people go off on a business that was trying to keep prices low
for customers. To my mind, Amazon wasn’t the “bully.” The big
publishers and their authors were.

Now Amazon has
issued a statement about the matter that lays out some numbers.
It’s pretty interesting reading and clarifying, too:

…e-books are highly price-elastic. This means that when the
price goes up, customers buy much less. We’ve quantified the price
elasticity of e-books from repeated measurements across many
titles. For every copy an e-book would sell at $14.99, it would
sell 1.74 copies if priced at $9.99. So, for example, if customers
would buy 100,000 copies of a particular e-book at $14.99, then
customers would buy 174,000 copies of that same e-book at $9.99.
Total revenue at $14.99 would be $1,499,000. Total revenue at $9.99
is $1,738,000.

The important thing to note here is that at the lower price,
total revenue increases 16%. This is good for all the parties
involved:

* The customer is paying 33% less.

* The author is getting a royalty check 16% larger and being
read by an audience that’s 74% larger. And that 74% increase in
copies sold makes it much more likely that the title will make it
onto the national bestseller lists. (Any author who’s trying to get
on one of the national bestseller lists should insist to their
publisher that their e-book be priced at $9.99 or lower.)

* Likewise, the higher total revenue generated at $9.99 is also
good for the publisher and the retailer. At $9.99, even though the
customer is paying less, the total pie is bigger and there is more
to share amongst the parties….

That’s a pretty interesting position, I think. And there’s
this: 

How does Amazon propose to share that revenue pie? We believe
35% should go to the author, 35% to the publisher and 30% to
Amazon. Is 30% reasonable? Yes. In fact, the 30% share of total
revenue is what Hachette forced us to take in 2010 when they
illegally colluded with their competitors to raise e-book prices.
We had no problem with the 30% — we did have a big problem with
the price increases.

Is it Amazon’s position that all e-books should be $9.99 or
less? No, we accept that there will be legitimate reasons for a
small number of specialized titles to be above $9.99.

One more note on our proposal for how the total revenue should
be shared. While we believe 35% should go to the author and 35% to
Hachette, the way this would actually work is that we would send
70% of the total revenue to Hachette, and they would decide how
much to share with the author. We believe Hachette is sharing too
small a portion with the author today, but ultimately that is not
our call.

Read the whole thing.

Hat Tip: Twitter feed of Tom
Standage, who writes
“Amazon spills the beans on the Hachette dispute. It wants low
prices for readers, more money for authors. Who loses?”

That the San Diego Comic-Con (SDCC), which happened last
weekened, has jumped the shark, gotten too big, sold out, lost its
soul, has been bemoaned
for many years now.

The reasoning is very similar to complaints that surround
another West Coast festival that I started going to the same year I
started going to SDCC, 1995: Burning Man. See
me blogging yesterday on the latest explosion of “people who
shouldn’t be going to my little party are going to it, and I’m
annoyed” vis a vis Burning Man, regarding Americans for Tax Reform
leader Grover Norquist’s highly publicized decision to set his
tax-cutting feet on the sacred Black Rock Playa.

Since I started going, Burning Man’s population as increased by
12x; SDCC’s, by at least 4x. (I’ve been to every Burning Man since
1995, I’ve missed two or three SDCCs.) As the events have grown—and
especially as the types of people going have widened as
those numbers have grown—with both events many early adopters feel
alienated and annoyed. I personally know many, many people for whom
attendance at either might have felt near-mandatory in the 1990s
more or less swearing to never go again. And too many of them blame
this on the event’s changing—particularly on the events’ growth of
loss of focus.

But I’m here to tell you both events are as awesome as they ever
were, never mind the bigger numbers, increased expense, bigger
tsuiris in even getting tickets to two things whose glories have
led them to becoming sold-out shows. (You could buy walkup tickets
for both in those hoary old days when I started ruining it for
those who had been there before me.)

For sure, increased crowds, by definition, mean increased
crowds, and increased crowds can be annoying in and of themselves.
At Burning Man, you might be navigating larger crowds of bicyclists
as you try to walk, or larger crowds of pedestrians as you try to
bike. It might be harder to get front-row to a given art piece
burn. There might be less couch space at any given theme camp or
the Center Cafe.

At SDCC, the lines to get into anything related to TV or movies
or celebrities might now be too long to cope with. Getting a
pretzel and diet coke, similarly more difficult. More people might
be nudging you as you dig through half-off comics and trades.

But for those hearkening back to the supposedly glory days when
Comic-Con was about comics, and not a clusterfuck of a TV
and movie fantasy-geek-industry trade show, it is worth
contemplating that everything you ever supposedly liked
about it is still there, and even more of it.

The number of independent artists doing serious non-genre work
there is the same, or more. The cool indie publishers are still
there, with more great work than ever. At pretty much any given
moment, you could be inside a not-overly-crowded room listening to
panel discussions related to great comic book work and artists of
the past and present. It’s still an amazing comic book
convention–though admittedly one embedded in a larger cultural
context.

In my two days at Comic-Con this weekend, I was able to be in a
comfortable room and hear speak: Keno Don Rosa, Gilbert
Hernandez, Jim Steranko, Paul
Levitz, Len Wein,
Elliot Maggin, Scott Shaw!, Mark
Evanier, Walt
Simonson, Louise
Simonson, Steve
Leialoha, Mark
Evanier, Mimi Pond, Tom
Spurgeon, Gary Groth,
and that isn’t even all. In just two days.

And in between, visiting original art dealers and getting to
touch and ogle original art by Rube Goldberg, George McManus,
Berke Breathed, Garry Trudeau, George Herriman, Mike Sekowky, Ogden
Whitney, Paul Gulacy, Carmine Infantino, jack Kirby, Wally Wood,
Steve Ditko, Gil Kane,and literally dozens of other masters.

(In an interesting example of SDCC’s own organizers perhaps
overdoing it with the “we don’t even pull a comics crowd anymore”
thought, Berke Breathed’s panel was in a room that fit only around
200 people; the overflow line I saw trying to get in was
nearly four times that number. See, comic artists can be
superstars, too! Other comics related panels, with no more than 50
attendees, where in rooms that could have fit 500. It was
weird.)

If you are not yourself a comic book obsessive, every single one
of those names might mean nothing to you, despite the event’s
current huge media and Hollywood impact. And that’s exactly the
point.

For my own self, there’s a lot I miss about the old days at both
events as well. The easy serindipity of finding congenial pals and,
say, enjoying a meal seems to have been sacrificed to chaos and
business and just general busy-ness. (The days when a mere Friend
of Comics like me, not a certified industry pro, can find himself
casually at a simple and easy lunch with Peter Bagge, Dan Clowes,
Adrian Tomine, Terry Laban, Jaime Hernandez, Ariel Bourdeaux, and
Rick Altergott are probably over.) It can be just plain tiring
navigating thick crowds all day for days, yes.

But as it has grown, as the movie and TV folk have taken over,
the essence of what old comics fans loved about it are still there.
The event has certainly changed; yet I suspect for those who now
find it an unexciting grind or something they don’t even want to
think about anymore, it’s probably more the person who has changed,
not the event. Consider the difference between Christmas when you
were 7 and Christmas when you were 17. It may well be that for a
sensible adult, nearly 20 years of either event is just crazy. But
that doesn’t mean the event has degenerated and lost all its value.
SDCC, for whatever purpose you choose, is still pretty great.

That the San Diego Comic-Con (SDCC), which happened last
weekened, has jumped the shark, gotten too big, sold out, lost its
soul, has been bemoaned
for many years now.

The reasoning is very similar to complaints that surround
another West Coast festival that I started going to the same year I
started going to SDCC, 1995: Burning Man. See
me blogging yesterday on the latest explosion of “people who
shouldn’t be going to my little party are going to it, and I’m
annoyed” vis a vis Burning Man, regarding Americans for Tax Reform
leader Grover Norquist’s highly publicized decision to set his
tax-cutting feet on the sacred Black Rock Playa.

Since I started going, Burning Man’s population as increased by
12x; SDCC’s, by at least 4x. (I’ve been to every Burning Man since
1995, I’ve missed two or three SDCCs.) As the events have grown—and
especially as the types of people going have widened as
those numbers have grown—with both events many early adopters feel
alienated and annoyed. I personally know many, many people for whom
attendance at either might have felt near-mandatory in the 1990s
more or less swearing to never go again. And too many of them blame
this on the event’s changing—particularly on the events’ growth of
loss of focus.

But I’m here to tell you both events are as awesome as they ever
were, never mind the bigger numbers, increased expense, bigger
tsuiris in even getting tickets to two things whose glories have
led them to becoming sold-out shows. (You could buy walkup tickets
for both in those hoary old days when I started ruining it for
those who had been there before me.)

For sure, increased crowds, by definition, mean increased
crowds, and increased crowds can be annoying in and of themselves.
At Burning Man, you might be navigating larger crowds of bicyclists
as you try to walk, or larger crowds of pedestrians as you try to
bike. It might be harder to get front-row to a given art piece
burn. There might be less couch space at any given theme camp or
the Center Cafe.

At SDCC, the lines to get into anything related to TV or movies
or celebrities might now be too long to cope with. Getting a
pretzel and diet coke, similarly more difficult. More people might
be nudging you as you dig through half-off comics and trades.

But for those hearkening back to the supposedly glory days when
Comic-Con was about comics, and not a clusterfuck of a TV
and movie fantasy-geek-industry trade show, it is worth
contemplating that everything you ever supposedly liked
about it is still there, and even more of it.

The number of independent artists doing serious non-genre work
there is the same, or more. The cool indie publishers are still
there, with more great work than ever. At pretty much any given
moment, you could be inside a not-overly-crowded room listening to
panel discussions related to great comic book work and artists of
the past and present. It’s still an amazing comic book
convention–though admittedly one embedded in a larger cultural
context.

In my two days at Comic-Con this weekend, I was able to be in a
comfortable room and hear speak: Keno Don Rosa, Gilbert
Hernandez, Jim Steranko, Paul
Levitz, Len Wein,
Elliot Maggin, Scott Shaw!, Mark
Evanier, Walt
Simonson, Louise
Simonson, Steve
Leialoha, Mark
Evanier, Mimi Pond, Tom
Spurgeon, Gary Groth,
and that isn’t even all. In just two days.

And in between, visiting original art dealers and getting to
touch and ogle original art by Rube Goldberg, George McManus,
Berke Breathed, Garry Trudeau, George Herriman, Mike Sekowky, Ogden
Whitney, Paul Gulacy, Carmine Infantino, jack Kirby, Wally Wood,
Steve Ditko, Gil Kane,and literally dozens of other masters.

(In an interesting example of SDCC’s own organizers perhaps
overdoing it with the “we don’t even pull a comics crowd anymore”
thought, Berke Breathed’s panel was in a room that fit only around
200 people; the overflow line I saw trying to get in was
nearly four times that number. See, comic artists can be
superstars, too! Other comics related panels, with no more than 50
attendees, where in rooms that could have fit 500. It was
weird.)

If you are not yourself a comic book obsessive, every single one
of those names might mean nothing to you, despite the event’s
current huge media and Hollywood impact. And that’s exactly the
point.

For my own self, there’s a lot I miss about the old days at both
events as well. The easy serindipity of finding congenial pals and,
say, enjoying a meal seems to have been sacrificed to chaos and
business and just general busy-ness. (The days when a mere Friend
of Comics like me, not a certified industry pro, can find himself
casually at a simple and easy lunch with Peter Bagge, Dan Clowes,
Adrian Tomine, Terry Laban, Jaime Hernandez, Ariel Bourdeaux, and
Rick Altergott are probably over.) It can be just plain tiring
navigating thick crowds all day for days, yes.

But as it has grown, as the movie and TV folk have taken over,
the essence of what old comics fans loved about it are still there.
The event has certainly changed; yet I suspect for those who now
find it an unexciting grind or something they don’t even want to
think about anymore, it’s probably more the person who has changed,
not the event. Consider the difference between Christmas when you
were 7 and Christmas when you were 17. It may well be that for a
sensible adult, nearly 20 years of either event is just crazy. But
that doesn’t mean the event has degenerated and lost all its value.
SDCC, for whatever purpose you choose, is still pretty great.