Royalties on List
The more common book royalty, this is a percentage of the list price. If you are earning a 10% list royalty on your novel (eg), which retails for $15.99 (the list price), then for every book sold you are earning $1.59 in royalties.
Royalties on Net
More common in non-book items like games, stationery, calendars, this is a percentage of the price at which the publisher sold the product. Which takes into consideration the discount at which the publisher must sell products. If you are earning a 10% net royalty on your fancy journal (eg), which retails for $15.99 and is sold to one retail account at 50% off (eg), then for every journal sold you are earning $0.79 in royalties.
The system of royalties and advances is one often criticized. There are many people on either side of the desk (authors, illustrators, agents, publishers) who would like to see a system in place that would benefit themselves more.
Alas, figuring out how to reimburse everyone fairly in an industry like publishing is an impossible feat. Most books don't earn out, and are a loss for the publisher. If the publisher doesn't profit, does that mean the author shouldn't either? Most authors would say no: even the profitless books should profit the author. However, as soon as many authors appear on a bestseller list, their thinking changes. Clearly they're making a bunch of money for the publisher; shouldn't their cut be larger?
Well, there's the thing. If you think that the author should profit even when the publisher doesn't, then you must also be comfortable with the idea that the bestselling books (those desperate few) will profit the publisher more than the author, so that that money can bankroll the failing books on the publisher's list.
Publishers wouldn't mind at all if authors were willing to only profit if the book does well, but since the vast majority of books don't profit, no author or agent who knows the industry is going to agree to that. Which is where advances come in.
Advances
An advance is an approximation of what the publisher thinks your book will earn you in royalties in (perhaps) a year. It is an advance payment on those earnings, thus the name. Essentially, an advance is a loan that you don't pay interest on (and would only pay back in cases covered by the contract). It's the publisher gambling that there will eventually be money in that book. As we know, mostly the publisher is wrong. But at least this way the author gets some money out of the deal, even if they never see a dime in royalties.
Advances are subject to the publishing industry's full range of hallucinatory optimism and depressive nihilism, so don't be expecting any kind of "standard range" here. Ha ha! "Standard." Hilarious.
Because an advance is a sort of loan, you won't start earning royalties until your accrued royalties have earned back that advance. Which is where we come to:
Earn out
Joyous earn out. If your book has "earned out", then it has earned back the advance, and the author is starting to get royalty checks. In some wonderful cases, the book may earn out even before publication, based on foreign rights sales alone! Ah, then everyone is happy. Right?
No, of course not. There's nothing like publishing to gather egomaniacs with unrealistic expectations. Which is why you hear some crazy people online saying that if your book earned out, then you should fire your agent because clearly you weren't paid enough. (We pause here for painful laughter, and mild hysteria.) If the book makes money, and the publisher is glad they published it, then you're unhappy? You can only be sure you got enough money if your advance made the book's bottom line negative? Who are you crazy idiots?
Showing posts with label publishing dictionary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label publishing dictionary. Show all posts
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Definitions for the Perplexed: "Issue" Books
If you write a book to help parents and kids deal with something everyone experiences (like bedtime), not everyone who experiences that thing will buy your book. This is obvious, right? Some of them will buy your book. Not all of them.
Good. So the next thing to realize is that if you write a book to help parents and kids deal with something only a few people experience (like the death of a loved one, or synesthesia, or satanic ritual abuse), not everyone who experiences that thing will buy your book. Some of them will buy your book. Not all of them.
This is what publishers call an "issue" book: a book for a particular situation/problem in readers' lives-- one which does not affect all people.
Because the audience for such books is narrowed by the number of people who are affected, and further narrowed by the fact that not all of those people will buy the book, "issue" books have very limited sales potential, and thus very limited appeal for publishers.
You may feel you are doing a public service in writing a picture book about little Samantha's ageusia. You may be frustrated by the unjust lack of books your child's kindergarten teacher can use to explain to the other children that when Timmy beats up on them, it's really a just another of the ways God makes us all special and different.
But publishers have warehousing costs, in addition to many kinds of overhead. They are in the business of providing only those public services that serve more than a tiny fraction of the public, and only those services the public will pay for.
Thanks to Mary O'Dea for the link!
(http://awfullibrarybooks.wordpress.com/2009/12/09/satan-for-kids/)
Good. So the next thing to realize is that if you write a book to help parents and kids deal with something only a few people experience (like the death of a loved one, or synesthesia, or satanic ritual abuse), not everyone who experiences that thing will buy your book. Some of them will buy your book. Not all of them.
This is what publishers call an "issue" book: a book for a particular situation/problem in readers' lives-- one which does not affect all people.
Because the audience for such books is narrowed by the number of people who are affected, and further narrowed by the fact that not all of those people will buy the book, "issue" books have very limited sales potential, and thus very limited appeal for publishers.
You may feel you are doing a public service in writing a picture book about little Samantha's ageusia. You may be frustrated by the unjust lack of books your child's kindergarten teacher can use to explain to the other children that when Timmy beats up on them, it's really a just another of the ways God makes us all special and different.
But publishers have warehousing costs, in addition to many kinds of overhead. They are in the business of providing only those public services that serve more than a tiny fraction of the public, and only those services the public will pay for.
Thanks to Mary O'Dea for the link!
(http://awfullibrarybooks.wordpress.com/2009/12/09/satan-for-kids/)
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: Self Publishing
Janet Reid has done a fine job of covering the Harlequin brouhaha, so I needn't go over it again here.
And the SFWA has helpfully delineated the differences between vanity, subsidy, and self-publishing.
Let me just get this out of the way: There's nothing wrong with self-publishing. Not intrinsically. And a very small and extremely lucky and persistent percentage of self-publishers manage to sell their self-published works in enough quantity to make a profit. In a few extremely rare instances they sell well enough to be picked up by a trade publisher.
But there IS something wrong with self-publishing presses: They're shitheads.
Self-publishing presses reliably tell theirmarks ahem, clients all the things that will happen: their book will have an ISBN. It will be available through Amazon. It will have "distribution".
What they do not tell their clients are all the things that won't happen: It won't be available at both national wholesalers. Even if it is, it won't be available on a returnable basis to bookstores. It won't be available at a normal trade discount to bookstores. It won't have been edited, designed, or illustrated in a professional manner, which is what the book-buying public expects.
Which means it won't have a snowball's chance in hell of placement in bookstores, and 999 times out of 1,000 it won't have a snowball's chance in hell of selling. Period.
If self-publishing presses were educating their clients about all of that, I would have nothing at all against them. But education would cut into their profits. So they won't.
And the SFWA has helpfully delineated the differences between vanity, subsidy, and self-publishing.
Let me just get this out of the way: There's nothing wrong with self-publishing. Not intrinsically. And a very small and extremely lucky and persistent percentage of self-publishers manage to sell their self-published works in enough quantity to make a profit. In a few extremely rare instances they sell well enough to be picked up by a trade publisher.
But there IS something wrong with self-publishing presses: They're shitheads.
Self-publishing presses reliably tell their
What they do not tell their clients are all the things that won't happen: It won't be available at both national wholesalers. Even if it is, it won't be available on a returnable basis to bookstores. It won't be available at a normal trade discount to bookstores. It won't have been edited, designed, or illustrated in a professional manner, which is what the book-buying public expects.
Which means it won't have a snowball's chance in hell of placement in bookstores, and 999 times out of 1,000 it won't have a snowball's chance in hell of selling. Period.
If self-publishing presses were educating their clients about all of that, I would have nothing at all against them. But education would cut into their profits. So they won't.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: Assistant- Associate- Senior- Executive- Editor -in Chief -ial Director etc etc
Could you explain exactly what an Editorial Director does? Where does she fit in with the general hierarchy of a publishing company? (I assume she is more senior than a Senior Editor, but is there anyone more senior than her?) Does an Editorial Director have to go through a committee to acquire, just like everyone else, or is she more autonomous?Ha-ha! I will never tell. The industry is conspiring against you to make this information inaccessible!
Ok, I don't mean that. But I can't tell you the answer, because what an editorial director does, how she fits in the hierarchy of the company, and how she acquires will vary unpredictably from one house to another.
So if I told you what "editorial director" means at my house, my colleagues might be able to figure out which house I work for. Every company uses titles to suit their specific needs and interprets titles according to bureaucratic whim. There's no communal chart for what a particular title means in publishing.
Perhaps some of my publishing readers could give anonymous examples in the comments of what "editorial director" means at their houses.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: Merch and/or Ancillary
Crocodile Creek, MerryMakers, Inc., and Manhattan Toy Company design plush toys for children’s book publishers. When do publishers decide to introduce this type of product? What percentage of sales goes to the author and/or illustrator?Often, those makers approach the publisher, not the other way around. If a publisher does approach a toy company about a plush add-on, it's NOT when the book is newly out. It's when the book clearly has a significant fan base. Did you sell 50,000 copies last year? Great, have a doll. The plush market is not strong right now, nor has it been for the last several years, so getting a plush to go with your book is extremely unlikely.
Lots of authors have visions of sugar plums and merch subrights dancing in their heads when their book comes out. Whether it's a doll, or apparel, or whatever. Do yourself a favor and let go of those ideas. I've known a couple authors who spent the couple of years following a book publication doggedly trying to scare up interest in merch rights, and were bitterly disappointed. Because they did not have the huge fan base that would make merchadise manufacturers interested.
In terms of how much of that money the author gets, it says how much in your contract, in the subrights section. Some publishers don't separate merch rights and ancillary rights, but in case your contract does, ancillary is any non-book but still paper-based product. (Like stationery, or cardboard stacking blocks.) Merch is any non-book and non-paper based product. (Like a wading pool or pillow cases or hats or furniture.)
One of my illustrators was found to be in breach of contract over these subrights a few years back. If you take money from a wall-hanging manufacturer for the use of your illustrations-- illustrations for which you previously sold merch rights to your publisher-- I can tell you, our lawyers will be interested.
Read your contract and understand it. Please, people.
Definitions for the Perplexed: High Concept
What exactly does an editor mean when he/she says they are looking for "high concept" picture books?Basically, it means she wants a hook. She wants to be able to describe what will appeal to consumers about the book in just a sentence or two.
I, like many editors, wish more writers had a better grasp of what makes a hook and what doesn't. If writers were only sending us picture book manuscripts with hooks, we'd get a hell of a lot fewer pointless vignettes, heavy-handed lessons, nostalgic meanderings, and stories of any kind that no child will be interested in.
At the same time, some of us recognize that you can't tell writers that all you want are high concept submissions, because some of the great picture books out there are not high concept.
Skippyjon Jones, for instance. What's awesome about that book is its read-aloud quality and humor, and for clarity's sake I need to bring across that those are not high concept. Read aloud quality and humor are, indeed, hooks, but they are the kind of thing that no editor is going to accept from an author in a query letter. Because they're among the most subjective things there are.
If you can think of a snappy way to describe what's cool and fun about your manuscript, that's query letter gold. Just as long as your description doesn't include subjective descriptors like lovely, charming, funny, lyrical, wonderful, etc, etc, etc. EVERY writer thinks their writing is good, so we don't automatically believe claims of that sort. Tell us your book is about dinosaurs AND bedtime, and we'll believe you may have a hook.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: "Pre-Published"
STOP SAYING THIS.
If this continues, I'm going to lose my anonymity fast, because I will be the editor at pitch sessions singing loudly with my fingers in my ears.
It's not like "pre-med" or "pre-law", because publication is not a degree you can earn. It's not like "pre-cancerous" because if you fail to get your unsightly manuscript checked by a doctor, it won't turn into a published book.
Who needs to describe themselves like this, dammit? People with such fragile egos they can't stand not to have something to brag about yet? You're also "pre-dead," you know. And pre-my-foot-up-your-ass.
You're not fooling anyone but you.
If this continues, I'm going to lose my anonymity fast, because I will be the editor at pitch sessions singing loudly with my fingers in my ears.
It's not like "pre-med" or "pre-law", because publication is not a degree you can earn. It's not like "pre-cancerous" because if you fail to get your unsightly manuscript checked by a doctor, it won't turn into a published book.
Who needs to describe themselves like this, dammit? People with such fragile egos they can't stand not to have something to brag about yet? You're also "pre-dead," you know. And pre-my-foot-up-your-ass.
You're not fooling anyone but you.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Quick, Pretend You're a Publicist! Yes, Like That, But Blonder.
Would you mind explaining what an agent/editor means when they say they would like a 'one sheet,' more specifically as it applies to fiction?This is a term borrowed from the movie and music industries. It's a single page that conveys all the most important things about your book in the simplest, more straightforward style.
These things might include:
- your name and contact info
- your BRIEF bio, including any recognizable people you know who could blurb you, "ins" in the media, etc. Do NOT say you "think you can get the book on Oprah." For God's sake.
- a BRIEF explanation of what the book is about
- the value inherent in the book ("over 200 recipes!" / "reviews 50 philosophical approaches with over 300 dirty jokes!")
- the trend the book speaks to ("1 out of 150 children is diagnosed with autism" / "with over 50 new websites and blogs and 3 new magazines launched in the last year, rogue taxidermy is the new knitting")
- who will buy this ("proactive moms who don't know how to tell their toddlers they have to stop nursing")
- reasons people will buy it ("perennially favorite topics dinosaurs and bedtime combined" / "an antidote to the diabetic epidemic of Fancy Nancy")
- pretty much anything else you think will help sell the book.
But don't send a one-sheet to people who don't ask for it. There are enough people in publishing to whom it's still foreign that you run the risk of the recipient thinking "WTF? What industry do you think this is?"
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: Lay-Down Date
A "lay-down date" is also called an "on-sale" date, but please don't mix it up with "release date" or "publication date".
The last two are soft terms used by publishers and booksellers to indicate an approximation of when books will be on shelves. The first two are "put it on sale before this date and there will be legal repercussions" terms.
Most books do not have lay-down dates.
1. The only books that get a firm on-sale date are books for which the publisher is expecting (or just really hoping for) a strong and immediate demand.
2. The vagaries of shipping mean that some bookstores will always get their shipments ahead of other bookstores.
3. Which means that if bookstores who get the next Harry Potter (eg) early are allowed to start selling them immediately, the other bookstores are S.O.L. and will lose a bunch of revenue to the bookstores who were lucky enough to get their shipments first.
4. In which case the publisher will be immediately inundated by furious calls from the bookstores that haven't gotten their books. Furious. Inundated.
5. Thus: lay-down dates. Everyone gets a chance to receive the books, and then everyone has to wait for the starter's pistol to start selling them.
6. Plus! The more the publisher can pack the first wave of sales into a single week, the better their chance of getting on bestseller lists. Do publishers want to be on those lists? Hell yes, they do.
And now for a question I can't answer: Why are most lay-down dates on Tuesdays?
Nevermind the (sometimes absurd) theories that Millions found through the intensive method of (ahem) googling it. Go read it from someone who actually did their research.
The last two are soft terms used by publishers and booksellers to indicate an approximation of when books will be on shelves. The first two are "put it on sale before this date and there will be legal repercussions" terms.
Most books do not have lay-down dates.
1. The only books that get a firm on-sale date are books for which the publisher is expecting (or just really hoping for) a strong and immediate demand.
2. The vagaries of shipping mean that some bookstores will always get their shipments ahead of other bookstores.
3. Which means that if bookstores who get the next Harry Potter (eg) early are allowed to start selling them immediately, the other bookstores are S.O.L. and will lose a bunch of revenue to the bookstores who were lucky enough to get their shipments first.
4. In which case the publisher will be immediately inundated by furious calls from the bookstores that haven't gotten their books. Furious. Inundated.
5. Thus: lay-down dates. Everyone gets a chance to receive the books, and then everyone has to wait for the starter's pistol to start selling them.
6. Plus! The more the publisher can pack the first wave of sales into a single week, the better their chance of getting on bestseller lists. Do publishers want to be on those lists? Hell yes, they do.
And now for a question I can't answer: Why are most lay-down dates on Tuesdays?
Nevermind the (sometimes absurd) theories that Millions found through the intensive method of (ahem) googling it. Go read it from someone who actually did their research.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Cloudy with a Chance of Meaningless Terminology
Is a submission labeled as a "picture book" or "picture story book" that comes in at 2,000+ words dead on arrival? How important is this categorization? I feel like the word count is justified, and still leaves creative space for illustrations. I just want to make sure it gets a fair read. If it wasn't good enough, writing-wise, I could deal with that.Know where I hear the term "picture story book" all the time? Authors.
Know where I don't? Publishers.
"Picture story book", in authors' minds at least, indicates a longer illustrated text. How much longer seems to vary per source, so it's very vague as publishing terms go. It's also kind of meaningless: do shorter picture books not have stories? Why couldn't you call Tuesday a picture story book, since the story is told in pictures? Is Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (890 words) a picture story book? Is Ivanhoe (6,022 words)?
After countless conferences, critiques, and pitch sessions, the impression I've developed (without making any assumptions about your work) is that "picture book" is a format, and "picture story book" is an excuse for not caring who's going to buy your book.
No matter what kind of book you're writing, you should always be thinking about your audience and your competition.
1. Audience
Let's just say for the purposes of this discussion (and leaving aside my own personal antipathy for the term) that by "picture story book" we mean a text in which not all of the plot points can be illustrated.
That means to me that this is a question of how old your audience is and thus how much patience and reading skill the audience brings to the reading.
The children who need a fairly high illustration-to-plot ratio are either (a) impatient listeners / pre-readers or (b) low-to-moderate fluency readers.
The children who don't need a fairly high illustration-to-plot ratio are either (c) listeners / pre-readers who have had a high exposure to read-alouds and have developed the patience and attention span for them or (d) high fluency (independent) readers.
Now here's the rub: there are fewer children in category (c) these days than there used to be, and the kids in category (d) tend to feel picture book formats are "for babies". So while I wouldn't say that longer-text picture books are "dead on arrival", they have to be extremely well targeted and thoughtfully written.
2. Competition
Which books published in the last five years have a format, word count, audience age, and author recognition level* like your book?
If you can find some published at reputable houses, great!
If you can't, that should mean something to you.
*Never use books by celebrities as competition! Never!
___________________________________________
Am I right to suspect that writers with no publishing credits have a very, very small chance of landing an agent?
Yes.
Thus it would be smarter to submit to editors/presses first?No. The chances of landing a publisher from the slush pile are just as low.
If a contract were offered from a publisher, is there sufficient time to query and attract an agent?If by "sufficient time" you mean a week, then yes. I would expect a response from any author I'd made an offer to in that time.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: Sell-In and Sell-Through
Many would-be authors are under the quaint misapprehension that all you have to do to get even the most niche-audience books on bookstore shelves is to publish it.
We know better, don't we. Bookstores have limited space, and that means two important things:
1. They aren't going to keep anything in stock if it isn't selling.
2. They aren't going to even try to stock something they're sure they can't sell. (Yes, it's possible they're wrong about that. Quel dommage.)
"You mean... bookstores refuse to stock a book?" you say. "Isn't that... censorship??"
No, it's business. And bookstores are supposed to know their clientele, and what will make an impression on them and what won't. (Also what will get them so het up they'll stop patronizing the store.)
Sell-in refers to how well the publisher has been able to get books into stores. Good sell-in means retailers have shown enthusiasm for the book and have ordered it in approximately the quantities we had hoped--or better.
Good sell-in is a promising sign of how the book will do in bookstores (because bookstores are pretty good at knowing what their clientele will like), but it's not a sure sign. In a returnable industry, all publishers have had the experience of getting terrific sell-in only to receive most of the books back in returns, because they did not sell through.
Sell-through refers to how well the stores have been able to get books into the hands of consumers. Sell-through (which is difficult to track, except through unreliable Bookscan) means those books have really sold, and are not coming back. We can go to the bank with that money, instead of waiting around with it in our hands, to see if the bookstore is going to demand it back.
It's a tough, tough business, and it's only tougher these days. Do everyone a favor and go buy a book, ok?
We know better, don't we. Bookstores have limited space, and that means two important things:
1. They aren't going to keep anything in stock if it isn't selling.
2. They aren't going to even try to stock something they're sure they can't sell. (Yes, it's possible they're wrong about that. Quel dommage.)
"You mean... bookstores refuse to stock a book?" you say. "Isn't that... censorship??"
No, it's business. And bookstores are supposed to know their clientele, and what will make an impression on them and what won't. (Also what will get them so het up they'll stop patronizing the store.)
Sell-in refers to how well the publisher has been able to get books into stores. Good sell-in means retailers have shown enthusiasm for the book and have ordered it in approximately the quantities we had hoped--or better.
Good sell-in is a promising sign of how the book will do in bookstores (because bookstores are pretty good at knowing what their clientele will like), but it's not a sure sign. In a returnable industry, all publishers have had the experience of getting terrific sell-in only to receive most of the books back in returns, because they did not sell through.
Sell-through refers to how well the stores have been able to get books into the hands of consumers. Sell-through (which is difficult to track, except through unreliable Bookscan) means those books have really sold, and are not coming back. We can go to the bank with that money, instead of waiting around with it in our hands, to see if the bookstore is going to demand it back.
It's a tough, tough business, and it's only tougher these days. Do everyone a favor and go buy a book, ok?
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: Bookscan
Is wrong information better than no information?
For many publishers, the answer is yes.
Bookscan is a service that started in 2001, and gathers information from bookstores about what books are sold every week. Not all bookstores report to Bookscan. They have about 13,000 retailers reporting to them from across the country, and then they use the figures from each one to extrapolate about the retailers in each area from whom they don't have sales numbers.
So the sales numbers Bookscan reports are a guess. But on top of that, Bookscan is also only recording the sales of books in bookstores... which does not include any sales direct from the publisher, through school or library accounts, through bookclubs, etc etc etc.
A particular book's Bookscan sales number can often be half what the book's true sales numbers are-- and are sometimes more like a third or even a sixth! Bookscan is not terribly reliable.
Publishers know this, but at the same time, they have no other way to find out how the books at other publishers have sold. So in this case, incomplete information (and who knows how incomplete) is better than no information, at least to a publisher's mind.
"Wow, that's... boring," you say. "What exactly does this have to do with me?"
Well, I'll tell you. When an editor is getting ready to make an offer to you, she'll look up your past published books' Bookscan numbers, and she'll base that offer on those numbers. Modest numbers = modest offer.
Unless. Unless you've included in your past publishing information the real numbers from your royalty statements. Your publisher's numbers are always going to be higher than Bookscan numbers.
So keep track of your sales, huh? And let the acquiring editor know how your books have really done, because she'd rather raise confidence at the publisher with your past sales, and she'd rather pay you more if she can justify it.
And agents? I'm talking to you, too.
For many publishers, the answer is yes.
Bookscan is a service that started in 2001, and gathers information from bookstores about what books are sold every week. Not all bookstores report to Bookscan. They have about 13,000 retailers reporting to them from across the country, and then they use the figures from each one to extrapolate about the retailers in each area from whom they don't have sales numbers.
So the sales numbers Bookscan reports are a guess. But on top of that, Bookscan is also only recording the sales of books in bookstores... which does not include any sales direct from the publisher, through school or library accounts, through bookclubs, etc etc etc.
A particular book's Bookscan sales number can often be half what the book's true sales numbers are-- and are sometimes more like a third or even a sixth! Bookscan is not terribly reliable.
Publishers know this, but at the same time, they have no other way to find out how the books at other publishers have sold. So in this case, incomplete information (and who knows how incomplete) is better than no information, at least to a publisher's mind.
"Wow, that's... boring," you say. "What exactly does this have to do with me?"
Well, I'll tell you. When an editor is getting ready to make an offer to you, she'll look up your past published books' Bookscan numbers, and she'll base that offer on those numbers. Modest numbers = modest offer.
Unless. Unless you've included in your past publishing information the real numbers from your royalty statements. Your publisher's numbers are always going to be higher than Bookscan numbers.
So keep track of your sales, huh? And let the acquiring editor know how your books have really done, because she'd rather raise confidence at the publisher with your past sales, and she'd rather pay you more if she can justify it.
And agents? I'm talking to you, too.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: Strippable
Ooo, that sounds dirty. Will there be pole-dancing involved?
No. We're still on the topic of returns. Sexy, sexy returns. Yes, I'm being ironic.
Now, I do not offer the following explanation in an effort to further undermine authors' delicate self-esteems. What you're about to read is just another fact of the industry, and should not be taken as a judgment of your books.
Some paperback books are quality (or trade) paperbacks, and some are strippable.
How can you tell? It's simple. Is there a barcode on the inside front cover of your paperback? Does it have a little triangle with an "S"? Then it's strippable.
"Strippable" means that the publisher values this physical book very little. (This is not a reflection of how the publisher values the contents of the book, or the author.)
If a bookstore wants to return a strippable book, the publisher's attitude is essentially, "Oh, just throw it away."
To get credit for the return, and to be sure the book is not re-sold, the bookseller is asked to tear the front cover off the book and return just the front cover to the publisher. The bookseller will simply throw away the rest of the book.
Several of you have uttered screams of anguish and run off to check your own paperbacks for this designation. But it's really not a matter of high drama. The barcode above, for instance? Comes from this book.
The thing is, the chances of being able to refurb a damaged paperback are veryveryvery small. And if the publisher is printing a gazillion copies of the paperback whenever they go to press with it, those individual copies represent essentially pennies to the publisher... which is far, far less money than the cost of having the warehouse staff process a returned book. It's cheaper to just trash the thing.
Sad but true. But if it's good enough for Madeleine L'Engle, then it's good enough for you.
No. We're still on the topic of returns. Sexy, sexy returns. Yes, I'm being ironic.
Now, I do not offer the following explanation in an effort to further undermine authors' delicate self-esteems. What you're about to read is just another fact of the industry, and should not be taken as a judgment of your books.
Some paperback books are quality (or trade) paperbacks, and some are strippable.
How can you tell? It's simple. Is there a barcode on the inside front cover of your paperback? Does it have a little triangle with an "S"? Then it's strippable.
"Strippable" means that the publisher values this physical book very little. (This is not a reflection of how the publisher values the contents of the book, or the author.)
If a bookstore wants to return a strippable book, the publisher's attitude is essentially, "Oh, just throw it away."
To get credit for the return, and to be sure the book is not re-sold, the bookseller is asked to tear the front cover off the book and return just the front cover to the publisher. The bookseller will simply throw away the rest of the book.
Several of you have uttered screams of anguish and run off to check your own paperbacks for this designation. But it's really not a matter of high drama. The barcode above, for instance? Comes from this book.
The thing is, the chances of being able to refurb a damaged paperback are veryveryvery small. And if the publisher is printing a gazillion copies of the paperback whenever they go to press with it, those individual copies represent essentially pennies to the publisher... which is far, far less money than the cost of having the warehouse staff process a returned book. It's cheaper to just trash the thing.
Sad but true. But if it's good enough for Madeleine L'Engle, then it's good enough for you.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: Damages, Hurts, and Refurbs
Alas, dreaded returns. Someone in an inventory office or bookstore backroom somewhere has decided to return your book to the publisher.
Maybe this is because it didn't sell. Or maybe because it got damaged in shipping, or on the shelves, or in the mouth of a busy toddler. Maybe someone on a ladder dropped it from a height of some feet onto one of its corners. Maybe the diecut in the jacket ripped. Maybe it's dirty.
One way or another, it's back in the publisher's warehouse.
If it's in perfectly salable condition, then it's put back into warehouse inventory and sold again.
But maybe... maybe it's damaged.
Damaged means there's something about it that's not salable. Damaged books go to a separate section of the warehouse, awaiting sorting into hurts and refurbs.
Refurbished books are ones that have a fixable problem. The most common type of refurbishment is putting a new jacket on the book. Publishers routinely print a few hundred extra jackets for this purpose. The Hachette warehouse, for instance, refurbishes about 4 million books a year.
Hurts are not fixable. They are a loss, and go to the pulper.
When a publisher talks of having books pulped, they don't mean the books are reduced to paper pulp. (At least, not yet.) In warehouse terms, being pulped means the books are shredded in an industrial shredder and the shredded material is packed into bales and sent to a recycling mill.
It's a little dismaying to consider that the cardboard boxes your books are shipped in may have been made out of dead books.
Maybe this is because it didn't sell. Or maybe because it got damaged in shipping, or on the shelves, or in the mouth of a busy toddler. Maybe someone on a ladder dropped it from a height of some feet onto one of its corners. Maybe the diecut in the jacket ripped. Maybe it's dirty.
One way or another, it's back in the publisher's warehouse.
If it's in perfectly salable condition, then it's put back into warehouse inventory and sold again.
But maybe... maybe it's damaged.
Damaged means there's something about it that's not salable. Damaged books go to a separate section of the warehouse, awaiting sorting into hurts and refurbs.
Refurbished books are ones that have a fixable problem. The most common type of refurbishment is putting a new jacket on the book. Publishers routinely print a few hundred extra jackets for this purpose. The Hachette warehouse, for instance, refurbishes about 4 million books a year.
Hurts are not fixable. They are a loss, and go to the pulper.
When a publisher talks of having books pulped, they don't mean the books are reduced to paper pulp. (At least, not yet.) In warehouse terms, being pulped means the books are shredded in an industrial shredder and the shredded material is packed into bales and sent to a recycling mill.
It's a little dismaying to consider that the cardboard boxes your books are shipped in may have been made out of dead books.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: CMYK
"Four-color printing?!" you say. "I don't want four-color printing! My book has more than four colors in it!"
No, actually it doesn't.
CMYK stands for cyan (blue), magenta (red), yellow, and black. Those of you who remember your preschool color-mixing will recall that you can create all the other colors (or, technically, a hell of a lot of them) with blue, red, yellow, and black.
These are the four colors meant when we talk about four-color printing. CMYK printing is the norm.
That's not to say that I haven't worked on books that were not printed in CMYK.
Sometimes a book will call for a special color-- for instance metallic ink on the jacket-- or, as in the case of Chris Barton's book on the brothers who created day-glo colors, the book requires specific colors that you cannot achieve with CMYK.
Nickelodeon's orange? That's a special color. Gap's blue? Special color. Starbucks' green, Barbie's pink... these special colors are usually achieved with Pantone colors. They cost a bit extra.
Here's a color game: Kitten's First Full Moon was expensive to print. Have you wondered how they achieved such a rich black and white look? How many unique colors do you think went into the printing?
Answer: seven!
No, actually it doesn't.
CMYK stands for cyan (blue), magenta (red), yellow, and black. Those of you who remember your preschool color-mixing will recall that you can create all the other colors (or, technically, a hell of a lot of them) with blue, red, yellow, and black.
These are the four colors meant when we talk about four-color printing. CMYK printing is the norm.
That's not to say that I haven't worked on books that were not printed in CMYK.
Sometimes a book will call for a special color-- for instance metallic ink on the jacket-- or, as in the case of Chris Barton's book on the brothers who created day-glo colors, the book requires specific colors that you cannot achieve with CMYK.
Nickelodeon's orange? That's a special color. Gap's blue? Special color. Starbucks' green, Barbie's pink... these special colors are usually achieved with Pantone colors. They cost a bit extra.Here's a color game: Kitten's First Full Moon was expensive to print. Have you wondered how they achieved such a rich black and white look? How many unique colors do you think went into the printing?
Answer: seven!
Definitions for the Perplexed: Advances
The publisher has been through its rounds of proofs, and has given the printer the go-ahead to print the entire run of books.
.....................
Now we take a symbolic pause, to represent the three months or so the printer will take for this.
(No, printing even a gigantic run of books is the work of days, not months. But it goes in a queue behind hundreds of other books.)
.....................
Finally! The books are coming off the presses, all bound and whole and new! Real books!
Most of them are loaded onto giant pallets and sent down to the sea, to be put on a ship across the Pacific. This, the main shipment, will reach the publisher's warehouse in about a month, and then the warehouse will start filling orders to bookstores.
But a couple hundred copies are sent air-freight to the publisher, and these are advances, because they come in advance of the main shipment. They are for marketing. As with ARCs, they represent an extra cost to the publisher (because books are heavy, air-freighting them is not cheap). So, again, please do not make any assumptions about how marketing's advance copies should be shared with the outside world. They have many clamoring sales people who need a copy, and of course reviewers and magazines and places like that to send the advances.
Your editor may get a couple advances to send to the author and illustrator. But the gratis copies mandated in your contract will not come out of the advance shipment. You will have to wait till the main shipment is in the warehouse, and then you may need to remind the publisher to send them (if you want it to happen promptly).
________________________________
Now, advance copies are not to be confused with copies advanced, which, I recognize, is asking a lot of the uninitiated.
Copies advanced refers to the sales of the book in its first three months. This is a bit of a thermometer for how the book is being received in the marketplace, but how that thermometer is read varies a great deal from house to house, so I won't get into any speculation here. If you have a conversation with your editor and this term comes up, ask her what practical significance those sales numbers have at her house.
.....................
Now we take a symbolic pause, to represent the three months or so the printer will take for this.
(No, printing even a gigantic run of books is the work of days, not months. But it goes in a queue behind hundreds of other books.)
.....................
Finally! The books are coming off the presses, all bound and whole and new! Real books!
Most of them are loaded onto giant pallets and sent down to the sea, to be put on a ship across the Pacific. This, the main shipment, will reach the publisher's warehouse in about a month, and then the warehouse will start filling orders to bookstores.
But a couple hundred copies are sent air-freight to the publisher, and these are advances, because they come in advance of the main shipment. They are for marketing. As with ARCs, they represent an extra cost to the publisher (because books are heavy, air-freighting them is not cheap). So, again, please do not make any assumptions about how marketing's advance copies should be shared with the outside world. They have many clamoring sales people who need a copy, and of course reviewers and magazines and places like that to send the advances.
Your editor may get a couple advances to send to the author and illustrator. But the gratis copies mandated in your contract will not come out of the advance shipment. You will have to wait till the main shipment is in the warehouse, and then you may need to remind the publisher to send them (if you want it to happen promptly).
________________________________
Now, advance copies are not to be confused with copies advanced, which, I recognize, is asking a lot of the uninitiated.
Copies advanced refers to the sales of the book in its first three months. This is a bit of a thermometer for how the book is being received in the marketplace, but how that thermometer is read varies a great deal from house to house, so I won't get into any speculation here. If you have a conversation with your editor and this term comes up, ask her what practical significance those sales numbers have at her house.
Definitions for the Perplexed: F&Gs
Now, if we're talking about a novel, very likely the marketing department has nabbed galleys with which to make an ARC.
If we're talking about a picture book, though, that does not happen. Galleys are not representative enough of the final book to make good marketing materials.
In many cases, a picture book will simply be put on an early enough production schedule so that marketing can use advances. But sometimes, they'll have the printer send over a bunch of F&Gs.
F&G stands for folded and gathered.
F&Gs are the same sheets the printer is sending the publisher as proofs, but instead of sending the printed sheets straight off the press, the printer has begun (but not finished) the process of putting the book together.
When putting a book together, after the printer has printed the sheets of paper that will go into the book, those sheets are folded where the paper will butt up against the binding, gathered into signatures, and bound.
The most expensive part of any hardcover book, though, is the binding, so for the purposes of marketing materials, they skip that last step.
What you end up with looks like this:
This is an F&G.
If we're talking about a picture book, though, that does not happen. Galleys are not representative enough of the final book to make good marketing materials.
In many cases, a picture book will simply be put on an early enough production schedule so that marketing can use advances. But sometimes, they'll have the printer send over a bunch of F&Gs.
F&G stands for folded and gathered.
F&Gs are the same sheets the printer is sending the publisher as proofs, but instead of sending the printed sheets straight off the press, the printer has begun (but not finished) the process of putting the book together.
When putting a book together, after the printer has printed the sheets of paper that will go into the book, those sheets are folded where the paper will butt up against the binding, gathered into signatures, and bound.
The most expensive part of any hardcover book, though, is the binding, so for the purposes of marketing materials, they skip that last step.
What you end up with looks like this:
This is an F&G.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Definitions for the Perplexed: ISBNs
ISBN stands for International Standard Book Number.
Up until a couple of years ago, all ISBNs were 10-digit.
Let's take the ISBN for How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight:
0-5903-1681-8
The first digit tells you what language the book was published in. A zero or a one means English. (The ISBN for Bonne Nuit Petit Dinosaure is 2-0705-5568-2. The first digit, a two, means it's in French.
)
The next four digits tell you the publisher. 5903 is one of the codes for Scholastic.
The next four digits are a random series of numbers, unique to the book.
The last digit is a check digit. In any computer set up for ISBNs, the computer can run through a mathematical calculation using the check digit to be sure there isn't an error in the previous series of numbers.
(If you're curious, you multiply the first digit by ten, the second by nine, the third by eight, the fourth by seven, the fifth by six, the sixth by five, the seventh by four, the eighth by three, the ninth by two. Then add all those products together. In the case of 0-5903-1681-8, you'd end up with 190. Then you ask yourself how much you would have to add to 190 to make it a multiple of eleven. The answer, and thus the check digit, is eight.)
(If the answer were ten, then the check digit would be the letter X.)
A couple of years ago, it started to look like we might run out of unique ISBNs, so the whole world switched to 13-digit ISBNs, which was accomplished by keeping all the 10-digit ISBNs, but adding 978 at the beginning. (Of course this necessitated a different check digit.)
The barcode shown here has two parts. The big barcode will tell a scanner the ISBN, which you'll see printed in its 10-digit form and 13-digit form above the barcode, and in its 13-digit form again under the barcode.
The little barcode will tell a scanner the price. You'll see the price printed twice above the little barcode: once with a $ in front of it, and once with a 5 in front of it. (5 is code for US dollars.)
Up until a couple of years ago, all ISBNs were 10-digit.
Let's take the ISBN for How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight:
0-5903-1681-8
The first digit tells you what language the book was published in. A zero or a one means English. (The ISBN for Bonne Nuit Petit Dinosaure is 2-0705-5568-2. The first digit, a two, means it's in French.
)The next four digits tell you the publisher. 5903 is one of the codes for Scholastic.
The next four digits are a random series of numbers, unique to the book.
The last digit is a check digit. In any computer set up for ISBNs, the computer can run through a mathematical calculation using the check digit to be sure there isn't an error in the previous series of numbers.
(If you're curious, you multiply the first digit by ten, the second by nine, the third by eight, the fourth by seven, the fifth by six, the sixth by five, the seventh by four, the eighth by three, the ninth by two. Then add all those products together. In the case of 0-5903-1681-8, you'd end up with 190. Then you ask yourself how much you would have to add to 190 to make it a multiple of eleven. The answer, and thus the check digit, is eight.)
(If the answer were ten, then the check digit would be the letter X.)
A couple of years ago, it started to look like we might run out of unique ISBNs, so the whole world switched to 13-digit ISBNs, which was accomplished by keeping all the 10-digit ISBNs, but adding 978 at the beginning. (Of course this necessitated a different check digit.)
The barcode shown here has two parts. The big barcode will tell a scanner the ISBN, which you'll see printed in its 10-digit form and 13-digit form above the barcode, and in its 13-digit form again under the barcode.
The little barcode will tell a scanner the price. You'll see the price printed twice above the little barcode: once with a $ in front of it, and once with a 5 in front of it. (5 is code for US dollars.)
Definitions for the Perplexed: PPB
PPB stands for paper, printing, and binding. It is a dollar amount. It is also called the unit cost.
PPB is the cost only of the physical book: how much money (per book) we will have to spend on the paper, the printing, and the binding process.
A PPB for an average-sized, 32-page picture book, printing in four-color, and with a print run of more than 10,000 copies will often be about $1. As soon as you want spot UV or deboss or a funny size or the page count starts running up, you're adding on to that cost. If you want pop-ups or a sound chip or some hoo-ha like that, those will really cost you.
Things not included in the PPB:
The cost of shipping the books from China to the US.
The cost of shipping the books from the dock to the publisher's warehouse.
The cost of shipping the books from the publisher's warehouse to stores.
The cost of running a publisher's office.
The editor's salary.
The designer's salary.
The production manager's salary.
The marketer's salary.
The publicist's salary.
The many sales staff's salaries.
The costs incurred in the process of editing (eg, a fact-checker, a proof-reader, a copyeditor)
The costs incurred in the process of design (eg, buying new fonts).
The costs incurred in the process of marketing and publicity (eg, making displays, paying for advertisements).
The cost of free books to send to reviewers, etc.
...And several other things I've forgotten. Wondering where all the money between your PPB and your retail price goes? It's not into the publisher's pockets.
Authors and illustrators don't make a lot of profit on books, but neither do publishers.
There are some industries where a 50% profit margin is expected. Ha-ha! In publishing, we're aiming for around 10%.
PPB is the cost only of the physical book: how much money (per book) we will have to spend on the paper, the printing, and the binding process.
A PPB for an average-sized, 32-page picture book, printing in four-color, and with a print run of more than 10,000 copies will often be about $1. As soon as you want spot UV or deboss or a funny size or the page count starts running up, you're adding on to that cost. If you want pop-ups or a sound chip or some hoo-ha like that, those will really cost you.
Things not included in the PPB:
The cost of shipping the books from China to the US.
The cost of shipping the books from the dock to the publisher's warehouse.
The cost of shipping the books from the publisher's warehouse to stores.
The cost of running a publisher's office.
The editor's salary.
The designer's salary.
The production manager's salary.
The marketer's salary.
The publicist's salary.
The many sales staff's salaries.
The costs incurred in the process of editing (eg, a fact-checker, a proof-reader, a copyeditor)
The costs incurred in the process of design (eg, buying new fonts).
The costs incurred in the process of marketing and publicity (eg, making displays, paying for advertisements).
The cost of free books to send to reviewers, etc.
...And several other things I've forgotten. Wondering where all the money between your PPB and your retail price goes? It's not into the publisher's pockets.
Authors and illustrators don't make a lot of profit on books, but neither do publishers.
There are some industries where a 50% profit margin is expected. Ha-ha! In publishing, we're aiming for around 10%.
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