Campaign to Save the Book...Thong?

Alternet recently included an article titled "Will Digital Books Replace Paper and Ink?"

While it was nice to see, the article itself wasn't nearly so interesting to me as the comments. Alternet readers are a diverse bunch, and commenters...well. It requires a fairly sensitive sarcasm meter and a love of the absurd--or a strong streak of intellectual masochism--to sort through the chaff of a particularly lively discussion.

Being rather passionately interested in knowing what people think of e-books, I (gasp!) braved the comment section. The expected intelligent remarks about e-reader cost and DRM cropped up, and the undeniable sensory factor, i.e., people like the way hardcopy books feel. (And smell. Giles, anyone?) As did the anticipated "when civilization collapses..." observation. Less expected, to me, were "but what will I do with all my bookmarks?" and a welcome rare query about library lending in a world of e-. (You know I had something to say about that!)

On the pro-electronic side, someone pointed out an advantage I blush to admit had never occurred to me: that a borrowed/circulating copy e-book, unlike its hardcopy equivalent, is always new. Free from underlines and coffee stains, without torn or dogeared pages, etc.

And one poster offered, following from a remark about library catalogues being largely digitized already:

The entire Library of Congress is estimated at 10 terabytes, which is $3000 worth of terabyte hard drives at Costco today.

Which makes me lust after much more storage than is currently practical in my life, because, oh! I want a whole digital library! How many terabytes would it take to download all of Fictionwise?

But I will admit the bookmark-lover had a point. I've begun to replace worn-out paperbacks with electronic copies (P.G. Hodgell most recently). And I intend to continue doing this. It might some day be possible for me to see the top of my desk, my dresser, the hall table! There's no way all my hardcopies could be replaced, but I imagine, in some dim distant future, culling the collection until it actually fits in my multitude of bookshelves.

And any spare bookmarks, book thongs, book "earrings," and the like? Maybe I'll pin them to my wall. Or donate them to a museum. Or hang them on a Solstice Tree. Hmm. Most innovative alternative uses for no-longer-needed page-markers?

I smell a contest...

pxj

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Shall the Undead Rise?

Lady Aibell is closing its doors, so the psi-vamp chef Marc and his full-figured nibble are soon to be homeless once again. It's Friday, time for a Friday Flash; in honor of the upcoming demise of "A Gourmet Meal," I figured I'd revisit my favorite angsty cooking psi-guy, his lover, and the villain who demanded a full-length work so he could torment the pair. (Which text is also now homeless, though it wasn't contracted anyway, as that would have required that I polish the thing. ) Flash after the jump--just a more or less random section, while I dust off the rest and try to decide if it'd be more fun to work on that or NaNo. Or both at once.

Happy Friday!

***


{Sasha, a food writer for the daily paper, is at a party, on assignment.}

Tracking a waiter with a tray of divine-smelling hot mushrooms, Sasha made it to the far end of the hall, but when he disappeared into the kitchen, she had to admit defeat. At least temporarily. No other food was on offer in this part of the party, but something odd seemed to be happening. People tip-toed close to a knot of potted shrubbery, ducked through, then came away from there a few minutes later looking…enraptured. What on earth?

Excuse me while I check this out.

Sasha laughed at herself a little. Food writer, remember? When did you get the investigative reporter bug? But it was a puzzle, and she wanted to know. She wound her way very carefully around the edge of the crowd--a woman of her size quickly learned not to try to barge her way through a collection of people holding spillable things--and when she reached that plant-festooned knot, she went forward and found An angel.

A young man who might have stepped whole from a Renaissance painting: golden hair, pale wheat skin, eyes the color once reserved for Mary's cowl. The overhead lights, so bright elsewhere, seemed gentler here, caressing him. Haloing.

But hard on the heels of Sasha's first awed impression came another: Devil. They do say Lucifer was the handsomest. She blinked, looked at the blond, blinked again, and had to resist the urge to rub her eyes or curse aloud. Where the rest of the crowd looked the same from glimpse to glimpse, all polished and primped and display-model perfect, the blond changed. One moment, he was movie-star handsome, a golden boy in truth with his hair and his skin and his perfectly white teeth, eyes bluer than a summer sky and lips so deeply pink they might have been grown on a rose-bush in Heaven.

And the next, he was-- Oh, Hell and damnation. The man she'd seen at that food-show taping. The one who'd given her chills.

He smiled at her with those pink, pink lips; she looked away. From the corner of her eye, she could see him still, blond but wholly different, paler than the...mask? But no, that implied a cover and she could see through it. Veil? Cowl? Something unnatural, anyway. Horrible.

So, how, then? What? A spell? I don't believe in magic! Whatever the answer, she could see his other face so long as she didn't look straight at him, an oblique view offering the paler, uncharming face with eyes like frozen swamps, murky blue and capable of hiding anything. Swallowing her. God, I need to get out of here.

She backed away, not willing to show that man her back. Predictably, she knocked into someone. Unexpectedly, that someone didn't fall, but caught her easily. She knew the feel of those hands, even here, where he had no reason to be.

Marc.

For a moment, she was so relieved that her mind seemed to have stopped--he was there, her lovely, oddly dangerous lover, and he would protect her from the blond with the changing face. But that lasted only a moment before fury chased it away. "We talked about this. You following me." She turned her head to be able to see him and the blond both, one from each eye, shivering at the odd symmetry. But anger melted through fear, melded with it to become a cold ire like nothing she had ever known. Half surprised her breath didn't fog with the chill of her words, she went on. Softly, ever-so-seriously. "You promised you'd stop doing it!"

"I did."

"Then you lied." She wanted to shrug free of his grip, but that would mean admitting she felt his touch, the stroking caress that thrilled her even now. "Or broke your word."

"I. Did. Not."

She would have bruises, she knew, from the force of his sudden grasp, though he looked calm enough, his gaze direct, unflinching.

"Was this a test, then?" His accent thickened with every word. "My apologies for not understanding; I had not thought you that sort. If you would have me go, you need only speak the word. But," he loosed his hands, smoothed her sleeves as though trying to erase the wrinkled evidence of his touch, "there is one thing I would say to you, if you would hear it."

She could not speak, all her anger sidetracked somehow, drained away by his constant tiny caresses, by the waxing and wane of his voice. Even fear seemed muted, soothed. What did he want to say, want her to hear?

"I am not whichever man did such to you."

Ouch. "Sorry. Let's start over. Marc, hello, what a surprise. Not that it isn't always lovely to see you, but," she ground out the last words: "why are you here?"

"Not a test, then. You did not send the invitation. Merde. I am sorry, cher amie, I had thought the message from you. Someone called the restaurant." His gaze swept the room, seeking whomever had arranged this--and Sasha had an odd impression of more than eyes looking.

Her own gaze followed his when it locked; she was unsurprised to find he was staring at the potted greenery, but shocked to realize the blond was gone. Had he vanished in a puff of smoke?

If I did believe in magic... She wrapped her arm around Marc's waist, leaned into him, grateful for more than his warmth. If I did, but I don't, nor fairy tales, either. No fairy godperson sent him here. He did not appear to rescue me from the evil wizard, I am not some damsel locked in a tower, and falling into his arms is so not in the plan.

I'd crush him. There was no humor in the thought--there never was--but this time, it wasn't as certain as usual. She remembered the ease with which he'd caught her moments earlier. And that odd feel she'd had, once or twice, that he was hiding his strength. The way he'd pulled her onto his body, that night... Yeah, he's built well, but he's still just a man. And I'm two women, as far as size goes. Two and a half, maybe.

"You're perfect," he murmured.

She looked up to find him smiling down at her.

I don't believe in magic. Or mind-reading.

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Talking about WIPs

On several of the loops where authors chat with one another and hope readers are listening, and on every loop I've found where the readers actually talk*, there's a phenomenon I'd never seen before venturing into e-:

Sharing excerpts, publicly!, of unfinished work. Not only the traditional "unedited" excerpts used as pre-release promo, but bits and pieces of things that haven't been fully written yet, let alone polished, subbed, and signed.

How soon is too soon to share WIPs** with the world?

I may not be the standard model of writer, but I'm the kind I know best; to me, a work in progress is just that. It's in progress, in flux, almost guaranteed to change! It's not ready to be shared. That doesn't mean I can't polish a few paragraphs into readability if I have some reason to, it's just...that excerpted section may not make the final cut. If there is a final cut. There may not be.

I write much, much more than I ever submit. Even assuming that everything I sub finds an eventual home (hasn't happened yet, but let's assume), that's maybe one piece in three of the ones I finish? And I don't finish everything I start. Sharing WIP-bits might seem a little pointless given those stats, but it's not really all that different from the uncontracted-work situation; could take the disclaimer, even. Enjoy at your own risk. This work may not ever be available. In the event this book reaches the world, the following excerpt may or may not appear in any way, shape, or form.

Do readers notice if this happens--if a WIP-excerpt never becomes anything more? Does it bother them? Do they ever feel let down, led on, betrayed? Does it seem like a tease? Cut to the chase: Would it keep them from buying the author's published work?

How do publishers feel about it? I assume that once I've signed a contract, I'm limited to the published-excerpt terms; before that, it's my own look-out. Great, yippee. But... How would a publisher react to a submission including an excerpt s/he'd seen on one or more loops? More or less favorably? What about a submission obviously related to that excerpt but not containing it?

And what happens later? I tend to write novella-length fiction, which means a fairly low word-limit for excerpts; it's tempting to use this apparent loop-hole to post something more comparable to other authors' offerings. But how would that affect reader-reaction later on, assuming that WIP became a contracted work due for release? Would loop-folks feel as if they'd already read the thing, having seen so much of it?

What's the protocol for WIP-excerpt sharing? Is there some primer for the practice, as there is for released works? What makes an author decide that yes, it's time to share--and which shared excerpts are best received? What would readers really like to see?

Is fiction like sausage, best enjoyed if you don't see the process, or more like "display cooking," where watching it happen is part of the fun?

Your humble sea-lily needs to know these things! She's got a character tied in a pretzel who's longing to show himself off a bit...

As always,

peace and x-rated joy

pxj



*And if you know any of those that accept erotic fiction, let me know! Please?

**Okay, so properly that's WsIP, but I don't know how to "say" that in my head, and I'm one of those readers who hears text. Besides, it looks funny!

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What's In a Name?

Would Chase be as sexy if he were called Run? A Midsummer Night's Dream is sexy as hell--what about June-eve Reverie?

Names might be more important in fiction even than reality; they have to convey so much to the (potential) reader...


An interesting title, they say, is among the factors that influence purchasing/reading decisions. Doesn't that make it marketing, rather than writing? --she says, hoping to off-load the task to someone else.--But, no; as with children, it's the creator's responsibility.

I hate naming stories, usually go through half a dozen versions of a title before I pick one. My recent AMP release began life as "A Phone Romance"--yeah, groan away!--before I settled on Reach Out and Touch Someone.

Not fond of naming characters, either. (Or pets, and any kid of mine would be "you" for the first half of his or her life, I'm sure.) Names are too important to be taken lightly. And in fiction, I feel pressured to find a name that will say something to the reader, as well as to me. I often try three or four names before I find one that fits.

Except for Reach's hero; his name, I had from the instant before I started to write.

His last name, that is. When an editor once referred to him by his first name, I honestly thought she had me confused with another of her writers! Bill? Bill who? Oh, you mean Muir!

For the final version, I cut the first name entirely in favor of an initial, just to make sure no one else could do this. (Though I still don't understand how she did, when the first name appeared exactly twice in the submitted draft!) The heroine latches onto the last name in an instant, because it means something. To her, and to me. And maybe to the reader, depending.

Muir. Pronounced just like it looks--which means that if you're a Scot, it's a syllable and a half something in the neighborhood of "myewer," and if you're a Californian, it's Meer. After John Muir, who's a local (and national) hero, often called the father of the national park service, and for whom Muir Woods is named.


Why is that my fictional hero's name? Because the man's a redwood walking. No, this isn't a paranormal, I just mean that he's huge and stable and large enough to climb and...and I should shut up now before I start squirming in my very public coffeehouse seat. Besides, he's Jackie's toy, not mine.

Muir the redwood.


But that's not all. I have a fondness for obscure jokes--as folks on my not-a-newsletter list the e-Garret can tell you--and there's another reason why this yoga practitioner hero has the name he has: it's because Muir studies yoga.

There's a relatively new trend in yoga teachings called "tantra," "New Tantrics," or "yoga for lovers," where the point is to use yoga techniques for sexual connection and pleasure, interpersonal connection as opposed to purely universal. Happily for me, it so happens that one of the pioneering couples of tantra share his name.

Muir. The redwood who walks like a man, bends like a pretzel, and makes love with his whole being.

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Self-P(r)imping Season!

Yes, folks, even hermits sometimes feel the need to preen. Physically and virtually. What with new releases and a change of season, this seemed like the time for such things. So the blog's had its make-over, and I'm typing in a mud masque. The keyboard may never be the same.



Outside my attic window, the trees are changing their wardrobe, too--a host of lovely dramatic fiery shades--and my feline companion (not the one pictured above)is doing her coat-of-shifting-colors thing. And me? Well, beyond the temporary rather Vulcan face-coloring, I've pulled on the promo-ing suit.

Shame it isn't a better fit! Still, it's bright and shiny, and it goes quite well with pearls. I've entered a cover art contest this month, and I'm having an author day on the 13th. New releases are my favorite form of promo; accordingly, I queried a publisher just today. And I've done more posting these past few weeks, excerpts and announcements and general chat, than in a hundred normal life-in-the-e-garret days.

It feels like I should be decked out in full bling. How do other authors cope? I try to picture them happily self-promo-whoring (grills flashing and fingers flying and everything), but it's a painful idea to me. Easier to imagine writ(h)ing satin-sheeted first-draft work and bon-bon fueled fantasies...

Though, okay, I admit it: that's not what you'd see if you looked at me. Not this week, at least. I've emerged from my attic to take advantage of the fall weather, you see, going trolling for inspiration at the bonfires, enjoying the harvest fairs and season's-end frolicking. Just as soon as I do one more bit of promo, or two, or three--and when this masque is finished torturing me.

But I'll be back by the 13th! No doubt with the latest fall fashions in condoms to talk about.

What? Don't we deserve some safe bling?

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E-BOOK PROMOTIONS--EEK!

Reach Out and Touch Someone is available. Yea, yippee!

Time to promote that fact, for which I must venture forth from my nice safe garret—Sob.

It’s a well-ridden dilemma, this particular horned beast on which I’m currently impaled. (Not in the good way.) Frequently mounted or not, that thing’s nowhere close to tamed. E-book sales have hurdles enough that promotion’s even more necessary than with, say, small-press print. I know this; if I want anyone to know the story’s available, I have to tell them so.

So, fine, I’ve come down from my e-garret to promote. As briefly and painlessly as I possibly can, after which I shall retreat to cat and keyboard and caffeinated fantasies. For now, at least, I’m out in the virtual world, ready to speak my piece.

...Now what?

AS SEEN EVERYWHERE ELSE

I don’t belong to nearly as many chat loops as some people—hermits not being known for chatting, you understand—but even reading only my relatively few lists, the repetition of posts fairly quickly makes me grind my teeth. And I’ve seen enough complaints by more vocal posters to know that I’m not alone. It’s gotten to the point that these days if I see anything labeled “X-Posted” I skip past it, certain I’ve seen it before. And at that, I’m grateful for the poster’s courtesy! Seeing the same excerpt in several places on the same day doesn’t ring that “magic number” advertisers talk about for acquiring mindshare, at least not in my mind—it only annoys me.

So, what’s an author to do?

REPETITION = BAD but MINDSHARE = GOOD

Like many readers, I’m very author-centered—tell me an author I like has a new release and, resources permitting, I’ll buy it. All it requires is that (A) I recognize the name, and (B) you tell me where/when/how to purchase the thing. For authors I haven’t read yet, or those relatively few not yet automatically sorted into yes or no, occasional postings of different excerpts help. But in those cases where I haven’t made up my mind, repetition only serves to dissuade me.

Where’s the line between announcement and annoyance? Sure and certain, I don’t know—even the market researchers who spend their working days on the problem can’t seem to pinpoint it—but I know when it’s been crossed. And I hate the thought of inspiring that same feeling in readers that too-profligate promoters spark in me. But now I’m promoting my newest release, which means that I have to put on the marketing cap, itchy though it may be.

MONDAY MALAISE

I’ve been checking the rules for the various loops to which I belong (on which I lurk), and many of them allow promotions only on one day a week. The same day, too, for an astonishing number of them: Monday. Which is, of course, why the same posts show up in so many different places at the same time: it’s the only time they’re allowed!

Does this seem short-sighted to anyone else? Monday, the most hated day of the week. The start of the drudge-trudge workaday weariness. And you want to clog up the loops with promotions on that of all days?

Still, it’s not my job to criticize; I can barely run a blog, much less a chat loop. And in fairness, not all group owners set their rules that way. It just happens that several of those to which I belong do. Which leaves me with, for this new release, three excerpts I can post to many more than three groups and only the one day on which I’m allowed to post them with all the attendant promotional text.

Hmm.

I suppose I could divvy them up, posting excerpt #1 to groups A and B, #2 to C and D, etc. then switch for the next week—but if I do them one or two lists at a time, it’ll take forever and not reach many people, and if I cross-post them, I’ll get ulcers from the guilt and the fear of annoying people who might otherwise decide to read the thing. There’s always option #3, doing nothing, but then the readers won’t know the story’s out there. And wouldn’t that be a shame?

BRAND-NAME AUTHORS

Non-eremitic folks have a solution I really can’t match: they show off their personalities rather than their books. Posting daily to say hi, sending good wishes, writing essays, sharing pictures, just generally being friendly and accessible. Planting their name in people’s minds. It looks absolutely exhausting to me, but it works for them.

Might it for me? Well, I’m pretending not to be a hermit just now, so I thought I’d give this a try; wrote myself a new bio and posted it upon joining another loop:

Species: human; sub-species author.
Gender: female.
Allergies: limelight.
Distinguishing marks: bad puns, twisted humor, tendency to lapse into erotica and/or science.
Habitat: electronic garret. Occasional sightings in the blogosphere. Rumored to have been spotted at publisher chats and loops, too infrequently for verification.

Lung-chin's Guide to Impossible Beings says :

Tracked by the mysterious letter-string "pxj" (postulated to be either the creature's initials or an acronym suffering low self-esteem), this perpetrator of strange humor and disseminator of stranger information may be a hoax, though there would seem little point in that. More likely, "pxj" is, like the sea lily, inclined to retreat at any cost. Reproduction appears to follow no particular schedule, but new creations, i.e. books, arrive frequently enough to dispel any thoughts of this being's extinction.

Tacked on a .sig line with a buy-link and (one hopes) interesting tag for Reach above the usual blessing, and, feeling quite pleased with myself, began planning further posts in a similar line.

Until the reply came back:

“Are you published?”

So, okay; I’m not enough of a brand name yet to do name-only appearances. Sigh. Other options?

$$$ WELL SPENT?

Writers with better finances than mine hire promoters, but the companies with approaches I find acceptable are all out of my price range, and I refuse to pay someone to annoy me by cross-posting to every group in cyberland. The few a la carte services I both like and can afford don’t seem to be the ones that influence readers, at least according to the sketchy research currently available. Some people swear by bookmarks and magnets and pens, others recommend candy or keychains, still others offer only books; some people get fantastic results with, say, purchasing banner space on site X, while others see not a blip in sales... I’d consider a pay-for-results deal, but at present, when it comes to e-book advertising, there’s no guarantee.

This time, I’m putting my money into prizes. Which means that I’ll have to run some contests, through the e-Garret and during scheduled chats or author days. Will this translate into higher sales? And if it does, was it the allure of gift certificates that sent people off to Fictionwise or...did they really like me?

AND THE ANSWER IS...

What, you expect me to know? Darlin’s, I haven’t a clue! But I do have a plan. Sort of.

I like Romance Excerpts Only, think it’s a great idea. But not every potential reader belongs. Mondays and whenever else promos are allowed, I will be trying the sorted-posts approach, all the while trying not to overdo. There’s always the blogosphere with all its links, and web-rings, and the rest of the “passive promotion” options, but new releases are time-sensitive, so I’ll try some more active things as well: Contests and author days and live chats and maybe even a virtual or RL signing.

(Lions and tigers and bears! No, wait—those don’t bother me.)

All of this sounds like entirely too much work, but then, action isn’t really a hermit’s stock in trade. I miss the days of transoms, you know? A scribe could just toss a manuscript over one and go on about her anonymous day. Of course, she probably didn’t make enough money to buy new paper and ink. Or pixels and bandwidth, I suppose. And more even than the money, I’d really like Reach to be read! Which means that, somehow, I have to get the word out that the story’s out there.

Accent on the somehow. Cue the Buffy soundtrack, folks, and join in on the chorus:

Where do we go from here?

I don’t know about you, but I’m headed back to my garret. Just for a few minutes. Really. Maybe an hour or two. But I’ll come back! Have to—there’s no coffee in the place right now. Besides, I have to go schedule an author day.

peace and x-rated joy,

pxj

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The Deas Wouldn’t Touch This With A Ten-Foot Pole

I have a new release this week, can’t think about anything else, I admit it. Well, unless you count a rather remarkably muscled bit of “inspiration” just across the coffeeshop right now... Sorry, where was I? Oh, yes, the new book, released just this week at Aspen Mountain Press. Reach is a strange sort of story to pitch—naturally, considering who wrote the thing—and the publisher seized on one small detail for much of the marketing: the business my heroine and her partner run.

Jackie and Carrie-Anne are “business facilitators,” which seems to mean that they’ll do whatever clients need in order to get their businesses up and running or to keep them that way. They call the business Deas ex Machina, and the outgoing message on the voice mail (when the system works!) informs clients that “the goddesses” are, no doubt, out answering someone else’s prayers.

If you’ve ever had to wade through the paperwork to incorporate, change a name, or clear the title to an estate, you’ll understand why my imagination generated that particular niche. I wouldn’t be too surprised, though, to learn that similar services exist. In a world where alibi services are now available in several countries...

Though my business goddesses are fictional, I felt the need, seeing this, to wince on their behalf. Jackie and Carrie-Anne would be appalled should a client ask them for something like this. Professionally intrigued (how on Earth would you advertise that service?), salivating over the fees, amused—but appalled, really!

I should know, I made them up.

...Ow! Jackie, control that walking tree of yours!

pxj

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Reach for What You Want!

Madeleine l’Engle said

“I frequently write about myself because that’s how I discover who I am…”

I can honestly say that I am not the heroine of this particular book. But writing her story...yes, I suppose I did learn something about myself. I am not Jackie—among other things, she’s far more driven than I—but her story is one I really, really, really wanted to share with the world. Enough to overcome my usual reluctance to venture forth from my garret; enough to make me do whatever I had to, to see it published properly. Which is a story I shall not be sharing, thanks very much. Enough to say

I wanted it. So I reached. And at last—

Here it is. Within your virtual grasp.

You have no idea how it feels to be able to say that!

As always, peace and x-rated joy,

pxj

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Loaning Across the Digital Divide?

One of the loops I belong to is talking about libraries right now—specifically, libraries and electronic books. I feel qualified to comment (not that any lack would stop me when I’m in the mood to speak) since I spend a fair amount of time in libraries. In fact, I’m posting this from one! And here’s my considered opinion:

My local public library system is actively hostile to e-books.

Sound paranoid? Well, I might be, but in this case, I’m also correct.

The Austin library system does offer NetLibrary, but most of the Austin eContent catalog is the same list of titles that you can get directly from Project Gutenberg. The others are literary analyses and small-press literary works, largely poetry and non-fiction with the odd regional story scattered here and there.

Okay, I know, that doesn’t sound too bad; Project Gutenberg includes a great many readable texts, and some people like poetry about chaparrals and high winds on lonesome plains. But even if you find an e-book you’d like to read from that sadly lacking list, the default option is online-only. You can check a book out and download it, assuming the library has the appropriate license for downloading, only if you have an account. That’s free to card holders, but it’s a separate step—even if you have an account with the library’s electronic portal. (Why can’t I just use that?) Downloading the PDF may also require activating a separate instance of Adobe Reader, but after that, you can read the thing. Until your borrow-term expires, or you finish it. You must also check the text back in, which involves more steps than a physical return would, and there doesn’t seem to be any way to renew without checking it in and back out again, or at least, not one I’ve found.

Oh, and it’s Adobe Reader only, no other formats, with the initial download only to a computer, though you can then transfer to a PDA or whatever. Ack! All that, for things I can either get elsewhere and own for no charge and with less work, or don’t want in the first place?

I know, some of you are muttering about evil and stupidity. Maybe they just didn’t think things through? But I’m not finished yet. It’s not just that the e-book section looks like it was populated by someone trying to discourage readers from trying e-. It’s more than that.

I don’t know if any of you’ve ever heard of Mark Y. Herring. Certainly it’s not a household name! I wouldn’t have known it myself except for a poster I saw in the library. (The Northwest branch of the Austin Public Library system, the first and only time I was ever in that particular branch!) The poster was headed

10 REASONS WHY THE INTERNET IS NO SUBSTITUTE FOR A LIBRARY

And it’s apparently based on one or more articles he’s written. A quick search turned up this one. I was so annoyed by the poster-version that I actually wrote down the high-points from that numbered list; the article isn’t identically phrased, but covers the same points, so in either version, # 6 and #10 raised my blood pressure a few points—

6. Hey, Bud, What About E-books?!

Reading on any e-reader is a chore. The technology will doubtless improve but it's still more than a generation away.

10. The Internet is Ubiquitous but Books Are Portable.

Try curling up by the fire with a laptop, or stopping by the woods on a snowy evening with a handheld. The future may bring this, but for now the vast majority of readers-- even online readers--want books.

Yes, folks, this is the message my local library system disseminates. In their catalog, in their sponsored talks, on their bulletin boards and lectures, and on their walls, they’ve chosen their message: e-books aren’t books, to them.

Hostile, like I said. And this in Austin, which is trying to become the most wireless wired city in the US! Maybe I’ll ask them to order something I know is only available in e- But then, I’d have librarians actively hostile toward me. And you know what they say about librarians...

pxj

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Long Live the Word!

The Association of American Publishers has just released some estimated book sale figures for 2006. I take comfort in these numbers--we're buying so many books, I find it hard to fear the global plague of illiteracy that my elders used to threaten. (Of course, what we're reading...)

And, fan of e- as I am, I was particularly thrilled to see this line:

E-books saw a 24.1% increase in 2006 at $54 million, with a compound growth rate of 65% since 2002.

Hey, folks and folksesses, we're almost halfway through 2007! Bought any books lately?

pxj

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All Hail Google...Paper

So I’m on the desktop today. Um, desktop computer—get your minds out of the gutter, folks, this post isn’t about what my characters all find so fascinating. Thing is, I run Firefox on my laptop, with that nifty little Save Session add-on, and I’ve always got my Google home page open, complete with a preview of my inbox. All of which is by way of explaining that I don’t often see the Gmail sign-in page.

Today, though, I was using the desktop, and decided I wanted to check something in my e-mail. So I wandered over to mail.google.com...and saw an announcement for Gmail Paper.
Yes, folks, Google will now print out any message(s) you desire, and mail them to you. For free.

My response? Oh, thank you!

You see, I’m one of those people who really does live a paperless life. (No, that’s not a typo: I don’t do paper, so Google Paper makes me happy.) Okay, almost paperless; there are a few exceptions. I still read hardcopy books, even prefer them sometimes (lounging on the beach, for instance—my Dana by Alphasmart’s allergic to sand). I still choose to receive bills in paper, mostly because the pile of them serves as a reminder to pay the blasted things. But I don’t deal much with paper beyond that; I’m a telecommuter whenever I can be, I write using the Dana or a computer... Hell, I don’t even own a printer any more. When the last one died, I just sort of put off buying a replacement. For going on three years now. It’s not like I need to print all that much; the occasional contract or invoice, that’s about it. And not all of them, as some states allow digital signatures. I think the last time I really needed a printer was back in December!

So why am I excited about this Google Paper thing? A couple of reasons: Because every now and then, I want a paper copy of something. And when I do, it’s usually something pretty disposable. A book I’d like to edit at the beach, for instance (curse that sand allergy!), that I just can’t see printing out in all its two-hundred-plus-page glory. Sure, it’s easy enough to get the edits back onto the computer, but then what do you do with all those hardcopy pages? I’m a child of the Reduce-Reuse-Recycle era; the thought of all that waste stops me in my tracks.

I can’t see using Google Paper for that, either, honestly, however much I like the thought—postal mail uses fuel resources—but they are using recycled soy paper, an item my compost pile adores. What really makes me smile is the idea of ordering my next contract that way. Hey, the last one cost me $12.00 to print, with all its tome-length garrulity! I have no problem proclaiming myself a starving writer (garret does NOT equal luxury penthouse!), and I have no qualms about the idea of sending a contract with ads printed on the back of every page. If folks who want to hire me electronically to work on a computer don’t understand the idea of a digital sig, they can just deal with giant red ads on the unused parts of the paper.

Actually, I think it’ll be a great statement—and I can’t wait to hear the response! Okay, folks, someone hire me, quick! I want to do this. I do.

But there’s one major, giant, shout-hallelujiah reason that Google Paper gets me so excited, the reason that prompted this post: Readers without e-readers.

You see, I write largely for the electronic market. You can find a couple of my pieces in print, but mostly, they’re e-books. (Available at Amazon.com and Fictionwise! /hint) I know of at least a few people who’ve bought my books and read them sitting at their desktop computers, because they have no electronic reading devices. And, to my sorrow, I know some people who choose not to buy e-books at all—even mine! —because they associate them with that uncomfortable posture. Other people print PDFs, but that adds expense and inconvenience to what should be a wholly pleasurable experience.

Now there’s another option: buy your e-book, have it delivered to your Inbox, and get Google to print it—at no cost to you. You have the file, so you can read on-screen while you wait the two to four business days for your printed pages to arrive. And you’ll have a print copy to share and re-read and read in the bath, or on the beach, or to mark up for future reference...

Oh, yeah. Definitely something to tell the readers. Ooh, and the e-Garret subscribers! I’ve been uploading PDFs until now, but I think I’ll offer to e-mail them to folks, so they can take advantage of this free printing thing.

A new way for readers to enjoy my work. Oh, hosannah and alleliu! And other people's work, too, of course. Hmm. Surely there’s a book in my Inbox suitable for beachside reading? Think I’ll go check.

Happy reading, all, and...

print some x-rated joy!

pxj

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