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kaigouRecently Mike Shatzkin was discussing Imprints in the 21st Century over on Idealog.com (h/t: booksquare). In discussing HarperCollin's new "it" imprint, this section particularly struck me:
There's frequent mention in help-books for authors about how you should do your research: if a publishing house has put out books X, Y, and Z and all are relatively similar in theme or content to your work, that you should say so. (Or if an agent has worked with similar, same basic idea.) I've seen my share of baffled to annoyed replies from starting authors about how this 'pigeonholes' a book, puts it in a 'niche' when, y'know, it really wants to fly! be free! and so on. (Which reminds me of my sister's classmates insisting that when they graduated with that all-impressive RISD diploma, they wouldn't sink to doing 'retail' art, they would follow their muse and do what they like, in a particularly short-sighted version of building it and letting folks come. Sorry, doesn't work that way... not that I think my comments to that effect ever sunk in on any of them. Going without cash kinda is the only way to get that lesson learned.)
It's only in the past year or two, as I've gotten comfortable with (and even come to prefer) ebooks, that I've noticed that brand identity is far more important than I'd realized. I mean, when I go to a bookstore and check a specific section, I hardly ever notice whether it's a Penguin or a Tor or an Ace or a Baen. I just don't give a damn, honestly. It just never even registers. The only reason it registers now (per ebooks) is because not every ebook publisher distributes through Fictionwise -- or they do, but with a lag against the release on their own site. That means bookmarking and tracking what's going on with each individual publisher, and then sometimes checking Fictionwise to see if it's there, yet (mostly because then I can order several books from several publishers all at once, instead of separate tiny purchases from each).
Going again and again to certain publisher sites, and thus being acutely aware of where each story originated, has made me more sensitive to the fact that these publishers definitely have (if not always articulated) relatively specific brands. I say not always articulated, because I think some of the brand development has been more a factor of the editorial bias towards type X over type Y, or style A over style B, but the end result is that if I'm on the site for this publisher, I have a pretty fair idea of what I can expect. I've got some kind of advance notice about the book's general themes, style, the progression, even the amount of violence, sex, language, conflict, and sometimes even general length.
Speaking specifically of erotica/romance, if it's Ellora's Cave, there's going to be sex within the first two or three pages. (If it's the author's third or later book from EC, this may stretch as far as -- gasp! -- ten pages.) If it's Torquere, then chances are it's more slice-of-life style; Torquere is strong on the feel-good, but also on stories where the plot -- boy meets love -- is primary and the conflict stems mostly (if not completely) from the 'boy loses love' step in the dance. Plenty of Torquere stories don't even get into actual sex until several chapters in. LooseID sits somewhere in the middle; it has EC's emphasis on explicit sex, but with a stronger emphasis on UST (like Torquere), its stories have a bit more leeway for developing attraction rather than lobbing a sex scene at you right away. Plus, a LooseID story is the most likely to throw a major external conflict at you, and not just of the "stalked by bad ex" variety.
Not that these are complaints, mind you. Not in the least: it's a high compliment, I think, because it shows consistency on the part of the editors/managers, a clarity in what they want -- and it's comforting, on some level (bad word, but it works), for me as a reader. If I read as much science fiction as my ex had, I could probably recite, like he did, which publishers would deliver X, which tended to Y, which always had a note of Z in every published work. (I don't, so, I'm not.) It's not a bad thing that Torquere, for instance, hangs its hat on minimal external conflict and a focus on the simple progression from boy-meets-other to boy-in-love. If that's what a reader wants, then knowing Torquere's brand means even an impulse purchase is probably a safer bet, in general, than just picking any book from any publisher, at random.
My point here is that it's pretty damn rare I want a book of Torquere's brand, usually preferring LooseID's biases. But then again, sometimes you see the same book in every search and you always click on the teaser and you always read the opening excerpt and finally, one day, you say, enough is enough. Gonna get the book and just be done with it. And even if it's a brand you normally are disinclined to read, sometimes it's just such a seredipitous thing that you can't even review the book for several months (or more) because you're still processing, maybe even still rereading sometimes, because it's just. That. Good.
Which just goes to show that brands only go so far, I suppose.
Part of the issue with brands, or genres, or current fads, is that they do tend to run together after awhile -- or worse, are employed in a story purely because that word or concept or character is an automatic sell. I read a (short) story recently that came with high recommendations, so I figured despite the vampire-element, I'd read. By halfway through, I couldn't help but think: what exactly is the point of the characters being vampires? Just what is that bringing to the story? I could visualize elves, or dragons, or any other non-real creatures in the roles instead, and the story didn't break. In fact, a fair bit of the story it didn't seem to matter at all that the vampires were vampires. I guess like if the fad were for characters to be members of Mensa, but then for the duration of the story you never actually see them be, y'know, smart. Or something.
Vampires, witches, dragons: these are often dropped-in, much like the story I'd read. Any kind of foundation, cultural assumptions about X, Y, or Z (such as inherent flaws like no-daytime-trips, or particular powers like breathing fire), the entire backstory that comes as ready-loaded reader baggage about what it means to be vampire, witch, dragon, angel, devil, etc -- there seem to be a lot of stories that gleefully pay lip service and not much else. Thing is, the same is true for BDSM-styled stories, it seems; a point made by a reviewer over at Dear Author about a book that was labeled and marketed as "strong BDSM" and yet the sex not only is highly vanilla, but very little kink happens at all. Like I said: lip service. Slap that label on it, and don't worry about actually following through.
Which is really a pity, because what makes some tropes -- from vampires to domination-submission -- so attractive to readers, I think, is because there are authors who have played those tropes from the heights to the depths, and really dug into the implications of being-this-thing. Yeah, Anne Rice went from mildly flakey to wholesale kellogg's supplier, but there's no argument in my mind that she really stretched the vampire trope to some marvelous ends, and set off a huge part of our current cultural obsession with them.
In a roundabout way, what I'm saying here is that I've learned to expect that most authors -- in naming these tropes as content in their story -- aren't digging deep; they're using it as marketing, tipping the hat and that's about it. That vampire story, therefore, didn't really bug me other than as an amused, "hunh, imagine that," if only because it was particularly egregious. Otherwise? Yeah, par for the course.
post split into two: the second half being review of exception to rules
[HarperCollin's outlined topics] would not make one brand. They’d probably make four.
So this new imprint can’t gather a coherent and enduring web community. One book’s audience will not lead naturally to the next. The web sites publicists find to post on, the “followers” they get from Twitter, the email addresses they get from a book promotion, will not translate into “equity” that can be used on the next book and the one after that.
There is clearly something about being a big general trade publisher that makes this hard to see, just as there is something about being a focused small publisher that makes it come naturally. For example, see Chelsea Green, a publisher based in Vermont whose focus is “the politics and practice of sustainable living.” Their marketing costs per book will go down over time as they gather larger and larger audiences that will be interested in most of what they publish. Another good example is Hay House, a mind-body-spirit publisher. These publishers, like Harlequin, have brands that mean something clear to consumers. And the same consumers can be sold book after book from these houses.
There's frequent mention in help-books for authors about how you should do your research: if a publishing house has put out books X, Y, and Z and all are relatively similar in theme or content to your work, that you should say so. (Or if an agent has worked with similar, same basic idea.) I've seen my share of baffled to annoyed replies from starting authors about how this 'pigeonholes' a book, puts it in a 'niche' when, y'know, it really wants to fly! be free! and so on. (Which reminds me of my sister's classmates insisting that when they graduated with that all-impressive RISD diploma, they wouldn't sink to doing 'retail' art, they would follow their muse and do what they like, in a particularly short-sighted version of building it and letting folks come. Sorry, doesn't work that way... not that I think my comments to that effect ever sunk in on any of them. Going without cash kinda is the only way to get that lesson learned.)
It's only in the past year or two, as I've gotten comfortable with (and even come to prefer) ebooks, that I've noticed that brand identity is far more important than I'd realized. I mean, when I go to a bookstore and check a specific section, I hardly ever notice whether it's a Penguin or a Tor or an Ace or a Baen. I just don't give a damn, honestly. It just never even registers. The only reason it registers now (per ebooks) is because not every ebook publisher distributes through Fictionwise -- or they do, but with a lag against the release on their own site. That means bookmarking and tracking what's going on with each individual publisher, and then sometimes checking Fictionwise to see if it's there, yet (mostly because then I can order several books from several publishers all at once, instead of separate tiny purchases from each).
Going again and again to certain publisher sites, and thus being acutely aware of where each story originated, has made me more sensitive to the fact that these publishers definitely have (if not always articulated) relatively specific brands. I say not always articulated, because I think some of the brand development has been more a factor of the editorial bias towards type X over type Y, or style A over style B, but the end result is that if I'm on the site for this publisher, I have a pretty fair idea of what I can expect. I've got some kind of advance notice about the book's general themes, style, the progression, even the amount of violence, sex, language, conflict, and sometimes even general length.
Speaking specifically of erotica/romance, if it's Ellora's Cave, there's going to be sex within the first two or three pages. (If it's the author's third or later book from EC, this may stretch as far as -- gasp! -- ten pages.) If it's Torquere, then chances are it's more slice-of-life style; Torquere is strong on the feel-good, but also on stories where the plot -- boy meets love -- is primary and the conflict stems mostly (if not completely) from the 'boy loses love' step in the dance. Plenty of Torquere stories don't even get into actual sex until several chapters in. LooseID sits somewhere in the middle; it has EC's emphasis on explicit sex, but with a stronger emphasis on UST (like Torquere), its stories have a bit more leeway for developing attraction rather than lobbing a sex scene at you right away. Plus, a LooseID story is the most likely to throw a major external conflict at you, and not just of the "stalked by bad ex" variety.
Not that these are complaints, mind you. Not in the least: it's a high compliment, I think, because it shows consistency on the part of the editors/managers, a clarity in what they want -- and it's comforting, on some level (bad word, but it works), for me as a reader. If I read as much science fiction as my ex had, I could probably recite, like he did, which publishers would deliver X, which tended to Y, which always had a note of Z in every published work. (I don't, so, I'm not.) It's not a bad thing that Torquere, for instance, hangs its hat on minimal external conflict and a focus on the simple progression from boy-meets-other to boy-in-love. If that's what a reader wants, then knowing Torquere's brand means even an impulse purchase is probably a safer bet, in general, than just picking any book from any publisher, at random.
My point here is that it's pretty damn rare I want a book of Torquere's brand, usually preferring LooseID's biases. But then again, sometimes you see the same book in every search and you always click on the teaser and you always read the opening excerpt and finally, one day, you say, enough is enough. Gonna get the book and just be done with it. And even if it's a brand you normally are disinclined to read, sometimes it's just such a seredipitous thing that you can't even review the book for several months (or more) because you're still processing, maybe even still rereading sometimes, because it's just. That. Good.
Which just goes to show that brands only go so far, I suppose.
Part of the issue with brands, or genres, or current fads, is that they do tend to run together after awhile -- or worse, are employed in a story purely because that word or concept or character is an automatic sell. I read a (short) story recently that came with high recommendations, so I figured despite the vampire-element, I'd read. By halfway through, I couldn't help but think: what exactly is the point of the characters being vampires? Just what is that bringing to the story? I could visualize elves, or dragons, or any other non-real creatures in the roles instead, and the story didn't break. In fact, a fair bit of the story it didn't seem to matter at all that the vampires were vampires. I guess like if the fad were for characters to be members of Mensa, but then for the duration of the story you never actually see them be, y'know, smart. Or something.
Vampires, witches, dragons: these are often dropped-in, much like the story I'd read. Any kind of foundation, cultural assumptions about X, Y, or Z (such as inherent flaws like no-daytime-trips, or particular powers like breathing fire), the entire backstory that comes as ready-loaded reader baggage about what it means to be vampire, witch, dragon, angel, devil, etc -- there seem to be a lot of stories that gleefully pay lip service and not much else. Thing is, the same is true for BDSM-styled stories, it seems; a point made by a reviewer over at Dear Author about a book that was labeled and marketed as "strong BDSM" and yet the sex not only is highly vanilla, but very little kink happens at all. Like I said: lip service. Slap that label on it, and don't worry about actually following through.
Which is really a pity, because what makes some tropes -- from vampires to domination-submission -- so attractive to readers, I think, is because there are authors who have played those tropes from the heights to the depths, and really dug into the implications of being-this-thing. Yeah, Anne Rice went from mildly flakey to wholesale kellogg's supplier, but there's no argument in my mind that she really stretched the vampire trope to some marvelous ends, and set off a huge part of our current cultural obsession with them.
In a roundabout way, what I'm saying here is that I've learned to expect that most authors -- in naming these tropes as content in their story -- aren't digging deep; they're using it as marketing, tipping the hat and that's about it. That vampire story, therefore, didn't really bug me other than as an amused, "hunh, imagine that," if only because it was particularly egregious. Otherwise? Yeah, par for the course.
post split into two: the second half being review of exception to rules