@Edencityoflit’s gorgeous paper sculpture, via Anna @ Anna-Not-Karenina

For those who didn’t catch it on GalleyCat or in The Guardian, a remarkable, new-slash-mixed-media artist has been leaving some rather stunning paper sculptures at libraries and other cultural institutions around Scotland.

The sculptures–usually addressed to the recipient’s Twitter account–are astonishing, tiny marvels of fantastic bookishness. It is particularly dorky, I know, but this one actually made me tear up a little.

There’s been a bit of discussion about who the artist is, with several folks suggesting Su Blackwell, though one commenter on the original post says it’s definitely not Blackwell’s work. Much as I’d like to know, though, I love that these gifts are anonymous tokens of bookish love. Hopefully, they’ll still be on display when I eventually get to visit the Scotland (my mum is from Glasgow, and yet I’ve never been…).

So far, gifts have been made to:

• the Scottish Poetry Library, @byleaveswelive (I love this handle)
• the National Library of Scotland, @natlibscot
• the Filmhouse (home of the Edinburgh international film festival), @filmhouse
• the Scottish Storytelling Centre, @scotstorycentre
• the Edinburgh international book festival, @edbookfest
• UNESCO Edinburgh City of Literature, @edencityoflit (my favorite)
• the Central Lending Library on George IV bridge, @Edinburgh_CC

See them all, with photos by Chrisdonia, here, then pass them on. Also, a few fun pics with the tree sculpture and Ian Rankin @ Anna-Not-Karenina’s post on the Edinburgh Book Festival.

Borrowing books is an important part of the zeitgeist. And while borrowing a book from a library or swapping one online may be a simple matter, borrowing a book from a friend is an essential process. Libraries and book swaps are impersonal. But borrowing from a friend? There’s an element of recommendation, a shared love of books and genres and particular authors.

Consider my trips home (Australia). Every time I visit, I swap books. Last time, my friend Rouha loaned a copy of the seventh Harry Potter and an injunction to “read it fast”. I, in turn, loaned my copy of Sarah Dessen’s Lock and Key to my Jodi Picoult fangirl sister-in-law, Serena because the likelihood of a Picoult fan also being a Dessen fan is pretty high.

But there’s more to it than that–the simple lending of a volume is just the beginning. When I finished HP 7 (it sounds like a printer, doesn’t it?) Rouha and I got together to discuss the book. When Serena finished Lock and Key, we lounged on my bed and talked about the book.

Now, while I’m for book borrowing, I understand the implications of it–it’s a free read, resulting in no flow of money to publisher or author. But book borrowing is a force for positive publicity. It taps the most trustworthy kind of publicity–word of mouth–and results in more sales for a given author. More importantly, though, book borrowing encourages the borrower to explore other genres more than any form of advertising. True, bookstores provide recommendations, and people follow them. I’ve bought books from the “Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought” list at the bottom of every Amazon page. I’ve also purchased a book based on the little staff recommendation cards at Barnes & Noble. But this only happens, say 2 in 10 times (20% for my Dalek readers. I know how you like Math.). The remaining 8 times, I skip the recommendations, and take just the one (or three, or five) book.

Sharing a book–and a love of books–is a very human act. We are hard-wired to want people to like us, to want people to like the things we do. And the best way to get someone to like our favorite chocolate/coffee shop/author is to introduce them to said favorites. Sharing a book is such a human act that, according to historian Lisa Jardine,

“On the title page of many surviving [early modern] books the owner has signed his name, and then added “et amicorum” – “my friends’ too”. It means that the book is intended to be shared, passed from one acquaintance to another, or consulted jointly in something like an early modern book club”.

But with the proliferation of e-readers such as the Kindle, book borrowing may soon go the way of cheap, non-Starbuckian coffee. DRM, or digital rights management, locks e-books, preventing the sharing of a single purchase. So while I may enjoy Kristin Cashore’s Fire (actually on my Kindle right now) and want to lend it to my fantasy book fiend bestie, I can’t. Where I could once prove Cashore is a worthwhile read, sharing it–discussing it–with my friends requires them to shell out $9.99 for the Kindle/Nook editions, $10.52 for a hardcover online, or the $17.99 list price in a brick-and-mortar store.

The Nook does allow limited lending – if the publisher allows, Nook users can loan a book for 14 days (a non-negotiable, one time limit) to other Nook users or those using B&N’s e-reader software. Not so the other e-readers, though, if you trust your friends, you could swap Kindles &c., books and all. This, however, is far from ideal.

Hard core borrowers and anti-DRM folk aren’t taking this lying down. According to yesterday’s PW Online, pirate sites such as Scribd, Wattpad, and DocStoc are contributing to $3 billion worth of illegally downloaded books. And that’s just text specialty sites–torrent sites such The Pirate Bay and Mininova do a brisk trade in both print and audio books.

If it hadn’t been for Rouha, I may not have read HP 7. I wasn’t that interested in it; I’d read poor reviews. But her insistence that I struggle through it, along with the offer of the book itself, led me to read it almost overnight (pre-baby, of course). And, while I didn’t think it the best book on the block, I did learn something from it (endless journeys are boring; characters shouldn’t take too long to recognize the obvious; 759 pages is too long for a YA book). I also love the freedom of my Kindle–I can get a book instantly, then read in relative comfort while Baby snoozes on my chest. But if having a Kindle meant I could never again borrow or lend a book, I’d give it up in a heartbeat.

Will the publishing industry recognize the power of book borrowing? I’d like to think so. Some publishers, such as Tor, offer a lot of free content on their websites, even providing exclusive short stories by popular authors (Charles Stross leaps to mind). Last year, Harper Collins put up video of Neil Gaiman reading The Graveyard Book in its entirety; in 2008, they gave away free e-copies of American Gods (more content is available via the “browse inside” section of their website–the books aren’t available for download).

From a 2008 NYT interview about Harper Collins’ decision to offer free content:

“It’s like taking the shrink wrap off a book,” said Jane Friedman, chief executive of Harper Collins Publishers Worldwide in 2008 interview with the New York Times . “The best way to sell books is to have the consumer be able to read some of that content.”

Gaiman agreed.

“I didn’t grow up buying every book I read. I read books at libraries, I read books at friend’s houses, I read books that I found on people’s window sills.” Eventually, he said, he bought his own books and he believes other readers will, too.”

He elaborates in a 2008 blog entry, writing,

This [book borrowing] is how people found new authors for more than a century. Someone says, “I’ve read this. It’s good. I think you’d like it. Here, you can borrow it.” Someone takes the book away, reads it, and goes, Ah, I have a new author.

Libraries are good things: you shouldn’t have to pay for every book you read.

Will the Kindle, the Nook, the Sony e-reader or Spring Design’s Alex kill book borrowing? Individually, perhaps not. Together? It’s a strong possibility.

Resume tag cloud from wordle.net

On Tuesday, 1/5/10, the Wall Street Journal published the best and worst jobs of 2010 (as compiled by job site CareerCast.com).  While I’m not sure how we can possibly know the best and worst jobs of just 5 days into the new year, I’m curious about spot 74: author (books).

According to the WSJ, the list is based on five criteria–environment, income, employment outlook, physical demands, and stress. To put the list in some perspective, actuary is in the top spot, while roustabout placed last. Typist/Word Processor is ranked 60th, PR Exec 79th, Psychiatrist 98th,and  Nurse (registered) 100th. Reporter (newspaper), one of writing’s sister professions, clocks in at 184.

Now, while I’m happy plugging away at my keyboard and listening to the voices in my head (Don’t Jump! Eat ze wagon wheel! Chocolate is a vegetable!) I think 74th out of 200, or the 63rd percentile, is actually quite high for writing. Why? As with most things, there’s a lot more to writing than salary.

Environment
Many writers, full-time, part-time, or hobbyist, work from home. It may be from a dedicated study, or, as in my case, it may be in a rocking chair, beneath tired teething baby and precariously balanced laptop. But working from home has its drawbacks.

Overwork is a common complaint of the writer, especially she who moonlights as a stay-at-home-mother, full-time corporate exec, podiatrist, or pastry chef. In fact, there are few writers who actually get to write full time, and finding precious moments to put words to paper can be even more challenge than writing the dreaded query letter. Interruptions are another worry–it’s incredibly hard to focus on that love scene if your one year old is screaming for string cheese, your husband is waxing poetic about the latest Warhammer 40K book, and your cat is performing exploratory surgery on your prize-winning geraniums. Perhaps worst of all, though, is isolation. Writing is a solitary pursuit, a mind game only you can play. There are no other hamsters to crowd into the wheel and to help push your mileage up, no one to hang around the water cooler and chat with, no boss to get you motivated. A writer is entirely dependent on his or herself–even the most dedicated agent or editor can’t put words on the page for you.

Income
According to CareerCast’s research, an entry level author can expect to earn $28,000 p.a., a mid-level $53,000 p.a., and a high-level author $107,000. The latter figures, though not Harry Potter or Twilight-esque, sound quite nice, don’t they? If we’re conservative about the time it takes to write a novel – say, 8 months,  the hourly rate looks pretty good.

8 months = 30 x 8 days = 240 days.
4 hours per day X 240 = 960 hours
28, 000/960 = $29.10/hour for an entry-level writer.
53,000/960 = $55.20/hour for a mid-level writer
107,000/960 =  $111.50/hour for a high-level writer
Of course, that’s not factoring in genesis, development, any planning, finding representation or a publisher, or the myriad to-and-froing with said agent or editor. In fact, Miss Snark, literary agent and ex-blogger, recommends:

1. Finishing your first book
2. Writing your second book.
3. Rereading the first book, then using the experience gained from the second to fix it.
4. Querying.

She then warns that this process will take around two years. So, if we redo that calculation, remembering that it’s likely the first novel will never see the light of day:

2 years = 360 x 2 = 720 days
4 hours per day X 720 = 2,880 hours
28, 000/2,880 = $9.72/hour for an entry-level writer.
53,000/2,880 =  $18.40/hour for a mid-level writer
107,000/2,880 =  $37.15/hour for a high-level writer

Granted, these figures don’t take everything into account. And they’re still a respectable wage. Yet writing is ranked above some highly paid positions, (with great hourly rates) such as attorney, architect, dentist, and psychiatrist. Go figure.

Employment Outlook
This is a difficult one to tackle. Writing requires a very employable skill set–the articulate expression of complex ideas. A good, resourceful writer can find employment in any climate, as long as they’re willing to compromise. But it’s hard to put a number on employment outlook, even if we limit this criterion to publishing novels. From what I’ve heard around conferences and workshops, though, it’s not so hot. Sure, there are Cecily von Zieglars (Gossip Girl) and Stephanie Meyers (Twilight) out there, but there are also one-book wonders. Sometimes, the sole effort isn’t the author’s fault–smaller, independent publishers are ever-fewer. Unrepresented authors, even those with credits, may be shafted by the “agented material only” becoming popular. Longtime non-fiction, first time fiction authors may have their manuscripts eaten by the slush pile.

Physical Demands
Okay, this one’s on the money. Writing–unless you’re a bungee jumping memoirist or the Crocodile Hunter–is not a physically active pursuit. While I’m a fairly active person, the most physically demanding things I have to do as a writer are pace while I think, make tea or coffee, and balance the laptop. And rock the baby, of course.

Stress
Ah, stress. I knew we’d get to it eventually. There are many stressful jobs out there–fighter pilot, cardio-thoracic surgeon (if you believe Grey’s Anatomy, anyway), police officer, public defender, marine biologist, Dalek hunter. And I know, writing doesn’t compare to any of those. But it’s not as easy-going as your average Dalek hunter likes to think, either. Why? Writing requires guts: guts to spill, that is. Every time a writer–a good writer–puts words on the page, they’re putting themselves out there. Every time a writer sends a manuscript out to an agent, they’re putting themselves out there. Not the public I’m-so-happy-I-eat-springtime-birds-for-breakfast self, but the inner self, the self we are when we’re alone in a dark room, the one with the beliefs and the dreams and the guilt and the fears. That, my friends, is demanding.

And then there’s the rejection letters. So. Many. Rejection. Letters. Some may be personal, some may be forms. But each and every one hurts, and each and every one makes it harder to try again. Lots of people give up–giving up is a heck of a lot easier than getting back on the query horse. So while writers may not have to deal with crazy lungfish and creepy radioactive coral, they don’t have it easy, either.

Writing is hard work. Fortunately, it’s also enjoyable work–many writers, this one included, admit it’s a labor of love. Would I switch jobs? No. I love writing in pretty much any form (well, not the Danielle Steele form, but kindling has to come from somewhere). But I still think 74th out of a list of 200 is misleading, making the work seem easier than it is.

Where would you put writing on the list? Top, bottom, middle? Before or after protestant minister (96th)?

Surely not! The NBA panels know what’s what! And how hard can it be, anyway? Non-fiction books go in the non-fiction category and kids’ books belong in young people’s literature, right?

It’s not so clear cut anymore. A title in the NBA finalists for young people’s literature is causing quite a stir. Renowned illustrator and Caldecott Medalist David Small’s Stitches: A Memoir, is a non-fiction graphic novel originally released for adults. So why did Norton enter it as young people’s lit?

According to PW, Norton considers Stitches a crossover book, with great appeal to “kids between 12 and 18. Many of the comments we’ve gotten are from teens. It is a growing-up story, but the issues addressed in the book are ones that a lot of teens face.”

I haven’t read Stitches yet, but it’s definitely in my to-read pile. Making the NBA list at all suggests it’s an excellent book, and I’m curious about why it appeals to teens. Crossover books have become a lot more common in the past decade, while graphic novels have gained greater acceptance in the literary community. This kerfuffle could be the jumping off point for a much bigger question: how do we decide what’s YA and what’s not when the audiences aren’t so clear cut anymore?

Is Stitches’ appeal to young people enough to garner it an award for young people’s lit? Did Small’s history as a children’s illustrator contribute to the decision? Or did Norton feel that a graphic novel was more likely to be passed over in an adult category? If Norton had released Stitches with two separate covers, like Harper Collins did with The Graveyard Book, would this even be an issue?

In an experiment testing consumers’ interest in integrated print and video content, Simon & Schuster has partnered with multimedia start-up Vook to create a quartet of titles that melds print and video. The fruits of the partnership are four vooks—titles the West Coast company describes as neither book nor e-book—available as apps via the iTunes store and as web-based editions at both simonandschuster.com/aboutvook and vook.com. [Read the full article here.]

The titles being offered fall into two categories – fiction, with Jude Deverauz’x Promises and Richard Doetsch’s short thriller Embassy, and how-to with Pete Cerqua’s The 90-Second Fitness and Narine Nikogosian’s make-up book Return to Beauty.

I think the most interesting thing about this idea is the titles S&S is trying to push. It’s very easy to see how-to books doing well with a video component – publishers and authors have been offering a similar service with exclusive online content for years. But integrating fiction with online media is still a new concept in mainstream publishing (though it appears to be working well for Scholastic, with their The 39 Clues series).

Will readers want integrated video content? S&S isn’t sure, but they’re looking to grow their list of Vook titles, and are already considering works from their other imprints (the current titles come via Atria). It’s an intriguing idea, but a worrying one, too.

It’s not that I’m anti-adaptation. I’ve watched my fair share of book adaptations and even loved a few of them. My concern is the safety of the story-reader relationship? While it’s true that most authors have a clear vision of their characters appearance, words leave much to the imagination, letting readers create characters and settings more relevant to themselves. The greatest authors manage to call upon our own experiences to help us fill in the gaps – something video content threatens to take away. And, if we watch someone else’s interpretation of a book while read it, will that change how we feel about it? I’m not sure I’d love Coraline so much if I’d been watching movie clips while reading it – not because the movie is bad, but because my connection to the story would be less active.

Are there any books you’d like to see released as vooks? Is this a natural next step in the evolution of literature?