After a long hiatus, the blog Bookseller Chick is back, providing thoughts on bookstores, publishing, and all things literary. Writes Linsey, the “Bookseller Chick” herself:

A lot has been happening in the book world lately—the flood of great Young Adult books, the rise of the self-publishing success, the increased sales of ebooks, Borders’ bankruptcy, HarperCollins’ new electronic policy for libraries, and Apple’s new reading app requirements—and these things are really starting to make fundamental changes in publishing.

Regardless of whether Old School wants it to or not, publish or perish has taken on a whole new meaning.

These shifts from the past to present, be they good or bad, are things that I dreamed of being part of when I was trying to transition from bookseller to part of the publishing world. And while I never made it into the publishing stratosphere, I’m still affected as a consumer of the end product: books. Ebooks, library books, mass market, trade and hard backs, I still read across the board despite the lack of discount.

Recent posts include a discussion of HarperCollins’s controversial 26-checkouts ebook policy, the pros and cons of bookselling, and a review of A. S. King’s Please Ignore Vera Dietz. The blog’s tone is warm, personal, and witty, and I’m glad it’s back.

The sign is intended to remind patrons that buying books in indie bookstores—not just browsing there—is what keeps those stores alive. Explains the bookstore’s email newsletter:

The sign is in response to a growing trend at Harvard Book Store (and indeed at bookstores around the country). Folks come in, browse our shelves, get help from booksellers, attend our free events–but then make their purchases online at Amazon. If you like our store and enjoy our services, we’d ask you to think about the power of your purchases and their affect on our viability.

The sign is strikingly direct, but Harvard Bookstore might not have time to mince words. Another longtime local business, the stationery company Bob Slate, closed its doors last month after 80 years.

Do you ever browse books in your local store, then sneak home to purchase them online? Would a sign like this change your mind?

Logo artwork courtesy of BookMooch.com

You earn points when you:

• Type books in: enter books you own and want to give away. Each book typed in gets you 1/10th of a point.
• Give books away: respond to a mooch request, and send your book to them. 1 point awarded, 3 points if sent to another country.
• Acknowledge Receipt: after you receive a book, leave feedback for the sender and earn 1/10th of a point.

You use up points when:

• Mooching Books: each book you receive costs you 1 point, 2 points if it was postal mailed from another country.
• Charities: you can give your points to worthwhile charities we work with.

Says the site’s founder, John Buckman:

BookMooch is like a giant bookstore, of all the bookshelves in people’s homes. By aggregating everyone’s home book collection, we should have the best selection of used books on the planet. [...]

Consider this: you have books at home that you’ll never read again. Why not trade those for books ones you would otherwise pay for?

Many books go out of print and are hard to find. With BookMooch– and this is important– they’re still available and what’s more, free.

Books are emotional, just like music. They are a cultural product and they matter to us. It feels good to recommend a book to someone, to pass it on, so they’ll enjoy it.

On the practical side, the opportunity to save money and free up shelf space is a motivation to use BookMooch.

Besides, not everything has to be about making profit. Sometimes it’s fun to just give a book to someone.

The site also provides discussion forums, statistics, and the opportunity to donate to charity. Yes, it’s best to support writers and publishers where you can buy buying books—but if it’s swap or throw out, go with swap.

Illustration credit Andrice Arp, courtesy of BookMooch.com

Image Credit: Flickr

I first heard about this via Stephen Elliott’s very fine Daily Rumpus newsletter, then tracked down some more info via TechCrunch. Amazon has begun to offer Bookscan sales tracking data to authors for free. Stephen Elliott writes:

If you’re an author you can now see how many books you’ve sold through Amazon.com. They’ll connect you to the Book Scan database, you’ll see how new copies of your book moved in retail stores across the country. This used to take longer. You would ask your agent, who would ask your publisher. You had to trust people. Once in a while you got a royalty statement. Sometimes you didn’t get royalty statements. Sometimes you forgot to open your mail. Usually you signed a bad contract, gave away your tiny slice of pie.

Why is Amazon doing this? Most likely to undercut publishers. You’re probably not selling as many books as you think. eBook sales aren’t counted, but they’ll show you kindle sales, if you have any …

I like this. I’m a fan of transparency.

FWR likes to do what we can to support local, independent bookstores – when there’s a link to buy a book, it goes to Powell’s or Indiebound. However, information is power, and this is valuable information for authors whose books are out there in the marketplace. To paraphrase Stephen Elliott, transparency=good.

Peddler, 1849. Photo Credit: Flickr

On the NYTimes‘ Opinionator blog this weekend, Dick Cavett reflects on the role of author as salesman in “I Wrote It, Must I Also Hustle It?” Cavett writes:

I just did 12 — or was it 14? — back-to-back radio interviews from New York to Seattle and, so it seemed after five of them, all points in between.

Somewhere around number eight you begin to lapse into a kind of dream state, wondering if what you just said was something you had said to the same person 10 minutes ago; or was that said to the previous host? Maybe he is the one you said it twice to? Or do you think you just said it now but in fact only thought it?

You want to go back to bed.

Writers with far less name recognition than Cavett are very familiar with the importance of providing a public face to their books. The competition for review space, speaking engagements, radio gigs – you name it – is fierce, and agents, publicists, friends and the authors themselves work together to get the word out about a book. With even table space at the bookstore is up for sale, a coordinated strategy is key to giving a new book a shot at finding its audience.

Writers, and their agents and publisher, have been getting creative. Eco book tours, promoting a new novel by sail boat, creating an app for a book (separate from the e-book version) for use on the iPhone and iPad, and the list goes on. Have you seen an unconventional, innovative way an author is getting the word out about her book? We’d love to hear about it.

[W]orking as a character he calls Papernick the Book Peddler, the Brandeis University writer-in-residence fills a neon-painted shopping cart with copies of his newest work, a collection of short stories called “There Is No Other,’’ and walks through local farmers’ markets offering his wares. [...]

“I call it market-fresh fiction for the people,’’ Papernick said. “I don’t need to rely on good reviews if I can show readers my book, talk to them about it, let them flip through it, sign a copy for them. It’s much easier to engage them personally than through a review or a display in a bookstore.’’

The first time Papernick showed up at the Waltham Farmers Market, he sold 13 copies “and bartered one,’’ he said.

According to Papernick’s website, the character of the “Book Peddler” has its roots in history:

Papernick came up with his alter-ego persona based on the great Yiddish writer, Mendele the Book Peddler. Papernick, a new immigrant himself (from Canada) recreates his story through the eyes of his European Jewish ancestors, complete with an updated fluorescent pushcart.

Okay, farmers’ market season is almost over up here in Boston—but this gets me thinking of other untapped places to sell fiction. Flea markets? Craft fairs? What’s the most unusual place you’ve seen a novel on sale?

I loved this morning ritual, which is why I never complained about getting up at 6 a.m. on a Saturday to trudge to work. I liked it for many reasons, not just the pastries. For one, New York publishing was closed, which meant I didn’t having anyone from accounts payable telling me that I owed them tens of thousands of dollars and that a collection agency—always, always from Texas—would soon be contacting our business. So that was good. But more importantly (and more seriously) I loved the interaction with our regular customers.

Jeremiah and Dean, 1998: photo credit James Wilson

Paul, who read the Financial Times and who was originally from London, would typically be the first to arrive, often before I had even unlocked the door. He urged me to read Penelope Fitzgerald, and eventually gave me a copy of The Bookshop to be sure I did. Then came the psychology professor and his wife, both of whom loved to hit the Saturday Farmer’s Market early so they’d have their pick of produce. He raved about Oliver Sacks, she about Rohinton Mistry. One by one, the familiar faces came through the door. I don’t remember everyone’s name, but to this day I can still tell you what they read.

Now, before I paint too bucolic a picture of bookselling, let me say that managing an independent bookstore was one of the hardest jobs of my life. In addition to the aforementioned accounting departments of publishers, and the constant threat of going out of business, there was an endless amount of work trying to bring in books that readers would love, finding ways to connect those books with the right audience, arranging author visits, haggling with advertisers, sitting on downtown development committees, and then the general headaches of staffing a store with human beings—some of whom were not inclined to work, others who were inclined to sleep in, and the occasional few who were inclined toward theft.

photo credit: Julio Garciah

But much of the time—particularly those Saturday mornings with their dependable rituals—I was able to talk with fellow readers who were enthusiastic about books. How we read them, why we read them, where we read them—you name it. And whether mysteries or metaphysics, non-fiction or nature writing, Chaucer or children’s literature, there was a world of writing to discuss, much of which I had never heard of. I loved nothing more than learning and contributing to that community.

It is this same sense of community that we try to foster at Fiction Writers Review. One that is made up of tastes and interests as divergent and varied as our contributors. But if there’s one unifying element, I have to say it’s that very same enthusiasm for books. An unabashed, unapologetic, earnest love of “shop talk.”

Talking shop is how I think of everything that we do at our site. For example, we aren’t interested in reviews that are purely evaluative. The “thumbs up” or “thumbs down” assessment of a book doesn’t interest me, or our fellow editors. Nor do we find much use for plot summary. After all, we’re not trying to help you figure out whether you want to read something based on its worth or subject matter. Instead, we push our writers to think of everything in terms of craft. Not “did I like it,” but what was the author doing stylistically that’s interesting to think about?

original illustration from

A good review should leave a reader with a new way of seeing the craft of writing, regardless of whether he or she ever picks up the book in question. Similarly, we publish in-depth interviews, most of which run 4,000-6,000 words. This allows enough time for a genuine dialogue to develop between interviewer and author, for the conversation to move beyond talking points. Most importantly, it becomes an actual exchange between two individuals who share a love of a thing. Likewise, our essays are guided by the interests and point of view of our contributors. We’ve published essays ranging from a re-reading of Chekhov’s famous “Lady with the Pet Dog” to a memoir of recovering from total hip replacement surgery while reading Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain, to an exploration about why the next Great American Novel might just be a video game.

At the same time, however, Fiction Writers Review isn’t a wiki. This isn’t a posting board. While democratic in terms of content and contributors, there is rigorous editorial oversight, both in terms of what gets published (we often receive several submissions a day) and the multiple rounds of editing that occur with every piece, some of which have taken more than seventeen drafts over the course of five months to reach successful completion.

Now, none of this is unique to an online literary journal. The best print journals have rigorous acceptance and editing standards, they publish a range of essay topics, they feature sustained interviews, and they focus their reviews on thoughtful analysis. But what we also have is what the bookstore provided me: sustained, regular interaction. Almost every day we post new content on our blog—whether industry news, calls for submissions, news items, or general whimsy—and every three to five days we publish a new feature. So each day a reader visits the site, it feels as if there’s an ongoing conversation taking place. This is further underscored by the fact that readers can leave comments and questions and links to related material in response to the work itself. And if a particular author’s work interests them, at the end of each feature we also have a wealth of other resources they can explore—video clips of readings, podcasts, links to further interviews, reviews, and original work by the subject, as well as suggestions for other writers undertaking similar projects.

It is this ongoing dialogue that lends this particular venture its deeper sense of community, for me. Though I subscribe to Zoetrope and Tin House and the New Yorker and Poets & Writers, and an embarrassing number of magazines with glossy covers whose names I won’t speak here, to say nothing of quarterlies ranging from AQR to MQR to VQR—all of which I read and love—I don’t converse with them daily. Fiction Writers Review, on the other hand, is my water cooler. And there is something about the immediacy and closeness that is valuable.

The clearest example I have of this is when Barry Hannah passed away in early March. The news of his death was leaked via Twitter, and was quickly picked up by online journals like HTML Giant, The Rumpus, and The Millions. Long before the New York Times or any other periodical was running the story, a real-time outpouring of sympathy, as well as a wealth of tributes to his work and teaching, was unfolding from his friends, former students, and admirers. I was one of those individuals. Barry was my teacher at the Sewanee Writers Conference several years ago, and I spent the day after his death re-reading his work, meditating how it had shaped me, and writing a short essay about his influence. Because we are an online journal, we were able to publish it on our blog that very day, and within hours it was picked up and re-published (or linked to) in dozens of places across the country. [Here's the essay in its later, expanded form.] This is another unique aspect of online literary journals and they way they foster community: the work is shareable. Immediately. So there is not just a community of readers of our journal, but also a community that exists among online journals.

But perhaps most importantly, I believe that online journals like Fiction Writers Review provide a unique place for emerging writers to join the conversation. After all, few print journals accept book reviews from individuals who haven’t yet published a book themselves. And even if they do, they rarely take unsolicited work. So how does an emerging writer enter this critical dialogue? Here they can. Likewise, the interview is a form that doesn’t have a prominent place in most journals. The average quarterly only publishes one an issue, meaning four a year. Here, we often have more than one a week. And while most publications seek creative nonfiction that is predominately literary journalism or personal narrative, here we are looking for meditations on craft and the writing life.

Again, all of this is “shop talk.” All of this is about bringing together people who believe that talking about writing matters. This is what I found so enriching and gratifying about my bookstore experience all those years ago—what I looked forward to every Saturday even more than those marzipan croissants. Because the best conversations are not only ones that include us, but also ones that are ongoing and endlessly evolving.

Editor’s Note

FWR at AWP: Dean, Mike, Valerie, Jeremiah, Anne, Zachary, Margaret, and Natalie

This essay was originally delivered as a talk at this year’s AWP Writers’ Conference (in Denver) as part of the panel Evolution of the New Media: Online Literary Journals in 2010. Joining our Associate Editor, Jeremiah Chamberlin, were Dan Albergotti (Waccamaw), Dan Wickett (The Emerging Writers Network and The Collagist), and Terry Kennedy (storySouth). The panelists’ presentations ranged from the evolving aesthetics of online journal design to the ways in which lit sites and blogs foster an extended literary community for writers. More than 100 participants attended the panel, which sparked a lively debate (one that continued afterward) on such issues as the sustainability and funding of online projects, the commitment to editorial excellence in a digital landscape, and the future of publishing in this medium. FWR was honored to share this event with such respected journals/editors, and also to have so many readers and contributors in attendance. But for those who weren’t able to make it this year, we wanted to share Jeremiah’s talk with the rest of you at the literary “water cooler.” – Anne Stameshkin

Extras

- Visit and read our fellow panelists’ lit sites and journals: The Emerging Writers Network, The Collagist, storySouth, and Waccamaw.

- The following video, an introduction to each of the online lit journals and communities featured at The Evolution of the New Media session, was designed for and screened at the panel:

The online version (along with a slideshow of images from the store) is available at no cost on P&W’s website…but if you want a print copy, Poets & Writers‘ special offer to Fiction Writers Review readers (only $12 for a year-long subscription) is still up for grabs; if you order through this page before May 15, you’ll get the current issue featuring Women & Children First. Regardless of when you order, a subscription will show support for independent bookstores everywhere.

Here’s an excerpt from Jeremiah’s Women & Children First profile:

photo by Jeremiah Chamberlin

When I walked into Women & Children First, the feminist bookstore that Linda Bubon and her business partner, Ann Christophersen, founded more than thirty years ago, the overriding feeling I experienced was one of warmth. And it wasn’t because Chicago was having a late-winter snowstorm that afternoon. From the eclectic array of books stacked on tables, to the casualness of the blond wood bookcases, to the handwritten recommendations from staff below favorite books on the shelves, everything feels personalized; an atmosphere of welcome permeates the place.

In the back of the store, a painted sign showing an open book with a child peering over the top hangs from the ceiling, indicating the children’s section. Not far away, a similar sign, this one of a rainbow with an arrow below it, points toward the GLBTQ section. Despite these signs—not to mention the name of the store itself—Women & Children First carries more than books for women and, well, children.

And here’s Linda Bubon, on her (and the bookstore’s) future:

Linda Bubon / photo by Jeremiah Chamberlin

I’m a bookseller, but I’m a feminist bookseller. Would I be a bookseller if I were going to run a general bookstore? I’m not sure. Sometimes I think, “What will I do if the store is no longer viable?” And I think that rather than going into publishing or going to work for a general bookstore, I would rather try to figure out how to have a feminist reading series and run a feminist not-for-profit. Because the real purpose of my life is getting women’s voices out, and getting women to tell the truth about their lives, and selling literature that reflects the truths of girls’ and women’s lives. Sometimes we’re abused; we have to talk about that. Sometimes we take the bad road in relationships; we have to talk about that. Sometimes we’re discriminated against in the workplace; we have to talk about these things. Violence against women in the United States and worldwide has not stopped. We don’t have a feminist army to go rescue women in Afghanistan—would that we did.

The goal of my life has been to get the word out, to understand women’s lives. We have to continue to evolve and change if we’re to have a full share, and if our daughters are to have a full share of the world.

Three-quarters of adults questioned in an online poll said they would sacrifice holidays, dining out, going to the movies and even shopping sprees but they could not resist buying books.

Dining out came in a far second with only 11 percent of Americans naming it their top indulgence, followed by shopping at 7 percent, vacations at four and movies, which was chosen by only 3 percent of Americans.

“The recession highlighted the downside of greed, indulgence and giving in to temptation, but we noticed a shift back to life’s simplest pleasures,” said Michelle Renaud, a senior manager at Harlequin Enterprises Limited, which conducted the poll.

John Irving / photo by Everitt Irving

Recently, though, two big-name authors spoke up about the scary ramifications for emerging writers. In a Big Think talk, John Irving discusses how much harder it is for first-time novelists to get started today, admitting that his first novel would not have been published today. (The half-hour long interview is broken into short, easy-to-navigate snippets and is well worth watching its entirety.)

And John Grisham, author of one of the slashed-price books, commented on the Today Show about the deep discounting, calling it a “disaster in the long term”:

“[The retail price] enables me to make a royalty, the publisher to make a profit and the bookstore to make a profit,” he said. “If a new book is worth $9, we have seriously devalued that book.” [...]

Regarding reading books electronically, he told Lauer: “If half of us are going to be doing it, then you’re going to wipe out tons of bookstores and publishers and we’re going to buy it all online.

“I’m probably going to be all right — but the aspiring writers are going to have a very hard time getting published,” he added.

Not a great comfort to the aspiring writer, but if even bestselling authors notice a problem, will the publishing industry pay any attention?