I thought now would be a good time to change this blog from something that was mostly all about me into something that was mostly all about something else. (And trust me, having something be mostly about me is pretty terrible; I’m shocked you stood for it for so long. To be honest, I’m rather disappointed in you, but there it is.) I want to talk mostly about books I’m reading, the intersection of publishing and technology, and especially what it means for marketing and publicity. But of course I’m not the first person to blog about this. I wouldn’t want to be. Tons of folks have written novels about road trips; I don’t see why being the first makes you the best. Not that I think I’m going to be the best. See? Try to be creative and all you get is nervous.

I think publishing as an industry can feel rather isolated from the rest of the business world. I’m not trying to be coy or smug when I say that the majority of the public doesn’t understand how a book gets made. It’s a little like knowing how hamburger gets made, really, and there’s no reason why everyone should be put through it. But a curious person, or a person who perhaps spends a lot of time watching closely for shifts in the media landscape, will have noticed that in the past few decades–maybe more–there has been a lot of articles and speeches and conventions all meant to discuss The Future of Publishing and How One Could Save Publishing If One Were So Inclined. It’s a strange thing, because this is a world built almost entirely from the ashes of literary history, and I think the mystery that surrounds publishing as a business, as a viable part of a media company, as a cultural touchstone, is a bit weird.

Publishing has a lot of moving parts. The publisher wants to sell books, and so does the author. But the author also wants to make a name for himself, maybe make more money on his next book, maybe go to another publisher to get a better deal. And the author’s agent wants that too, for a bigger cut. And the bookstores want to sell books, but they want to discount them to compete with the other stores, so they want the publisher to give them a good deal. And the publisher tries to juggle all these things with one hand tied behind his back. Or her back, since publishing is still about 89% women (though most of the top brass are men; not being uppity here, just stating facts).

The reader is in there somewhere. No one’s really sure where, exactly. There’s not a lot of research done on readers because (and this is my own personal unsubstantiated theory) reading is still seen as some kind of semi-mystical, private, artistic endeavor that cannot be quantified. And that may be true, in some ways. But can you imagine Pepsi investing in a new product without testing it? Without getting a group of people together in a little room to try it and fill out a survey?

Actually, I just remembered Crystal Pepsi. So scratch that, maybe it’s not so impossible.

Anyway. Drinking soda isn’t anything like reading a book. It may be a matter of taste in both cases, but for one thing, you can’t open up a book, look at one page and go, “Mmmmmm.” Reading is a time-consuming process. And time is something publishing houses don’t have, what with the crazy busy publishing schedules they keep.

Anyhoo. Reading. Bookish people seem to divide the world into two halves: the people who like reading for pleasure, and uncouth nimrods who sometimes manage to string together a sentence or two long enough to pass a job interview. This, of course, is an unfair view. I myself come from a house divided by books; while my mother and I were always bookish types, my brother and father were not. Oh, dad will pick up a book once in awhile, but for him it’s like picking up a newspaper or a menu at a diner: it’s just something to do in between conversation. My point is, plenty of nice, pleasant, smart, clean people don’t read books because it doesn’t appeal to them the way other things do. And that’s fine, even if it makes a bookish person nervous.

As a marketer of books, I tend to be mired in the idea swampland that there is A Book for Everybody because I want to believe it. But in my head if not my heart, I know this is also an unfair view. Some people do not read, just like some people don’t eat meat. (Very often, these are not the same people for some reason.) I can’t force a horse to drink; some things, you just have to let go.

So. Here I am letting go and playing in my own bloggy sandbox of books and long-form babbling. Here I go delighting in different typefaces and trim sizes and cover designs. Here I go playing with e-readers and iPoxUponYourHouses because those things are cool and I like them. I’ll still babble a bit about PR and marketing, because that’s what I’m all about. But books. Booky books. Booky books are beautiful works.

Thanks for your patience as I rehaul my little personal bloggy space.

Currently reading: Middlesex by Jeffery Eugenides

Photo credit to Wonderlane on Flickr