Publishing

This blog and my speeches contain frequent references to what we see as the big shifts the book publishing industry, and some publishers more than others, are feeling. The horizontal and format-specific product-centric media of the 20th century are inexorably yielding to the vertical and format-agnostic community-centric delivery environment for content that will soon predominate.

In that context, we’ve observed that the most general publishers are the most challenged. The distinction between publisher and retailer is blurring; in a decade or two it will be a distinction without much difference. What has always been the source of competitive advantage to trade publishers is leverage; they could reach thousands, tens of thousands, or even millions of customers for their wares through retail channels that aggregated audiences for content creators and curated content for consumers.

The non-trade components of the book business: publishers of textbooks, professional information, databases, and academic content already tended to specialize by subject so the challenge of being audience-specific, a prerequesite to creating community, had already been met. Non-trade publishers had never depended much on horizontal intermediaries. Even in college textbook publishing, which depended (and still largely does) on the college bookstore to actually deliver the product and collect the consumer’s money, the marketing component of the bookstore’s contribution was and is minimal. The publisher works vertically through a network of professors to drive adoptions, and adoptions are what drive the sales.

Trade publishers, which are called trade publishers because they reach consumers through “the trade” network of bookstores, libraries, and the wholesalers that serve them, have been generally alert since the 1970s to the importance of what are generically called “special sales”. Those are sales that come from outside the book trade, often from retailers in other channels. Special sales experts learned pretty quickly that you did better when you had a selection of books for an audience. If you had one book of Jewish interest, you couldn’t do much with it. If you had a dozen, it could make sense to buy a mailing lists of rabbis. If you had one home repair book, you couldn’t afford the cost of setting up relationships with retailers of hardware or construction materials (particularly thinking back to days before those outlets had consolidated into giant retailers like Home Depot and Loew’s.) But if you had a list, then the mutual interest in a relationship was obvious to both sides.

Some publishers specialized. When I was consulting with Wiley in the 1980s as they were developing their fledgling trade program, they brought their philosophy of really covering the needs of a vertical market from sci-tech to trade. They didn’t want just one resume book for job-hunters: they wanted one at every sensible price point and different ones for different kinds of jobs. One day a sales rep called in from the road to suggest that they deliver a book on the cover letters that should go out with resumes. They already knew they had a market through specialized customers of all kinds and through their direct mail efforts. The lists that worked for resume books would also work for cover letter books.

The most “general” of the general trade publishers tended not to develop the same depth of specialized lists. When Wiley considered that cover letter book, they knew they’d be able to sell it very efficiently and they knew it would enhance their relationship with individuals and channel partners through and to which they were already selling a lot of books. Would the cover letter book be big? Possibly not, but it didn’t have to be to make it clearly worth doing.

But the big trade houses were not built that way. And the biggest books, the sexiest books, the most exciting books, don’t tend to be in niches. In fact, niche identification can dampen sales in a general trade market. The CEO of a major house told me a couple of years ago that he didn’t want to label a book that could become a betseller a “mystery” title. Mystery was a “category” (read: “niche”) and, while those books tended to meet theshhold expectations more readily, he perceived them as harder to break out to the sales levels they could achieve if they were perceived as unique.

We are now seeing the early signs of what will soon be a tendency, then a trend, and then a stark reality: you just can’t sell as many copies of most books if you don’t have a proprietary position with a vertical audience. The early signs are evident through companies like O’Reilly Media (computer programming and technology), Hay House (mind body spirit), Chelsea Green (sustainable living), Harvard Common Press (cookbooks and pregnancy-childbirth), and F+W Media (several niches, including writers and crafts), which have special retail channels and huge email lists of individual customers that the big houses simply don’t. Niche by niche, the big houses will find it impractical to publish in areas that were once productive for them. Their need for each book to be “big” individually — for the single title to provide its own critical mass — works against what you must do to be “big” in a niche. To do that requires a more across-the-list kind of thinking that is counterintuitive to a company that makes the lion’s share of its sales through trade channels.

So for just about all the books that aren’t novels, memoirs, celebrity-driven, or epic works of popular history or politics, trade publishers are increasingly handicapped. Unfortunately for them, things are going to get worse.

The obvious problem is that the capacity of the general trade market to merchandise and move product is diminishing. I hate to invoke the old wisdom that many things happen “gradually, then suddenly”, but it is often true and we have been gradually losing bookstores for the past decade. What happens to the economics of the big publishers if we lose a big chunk of superstores pretty suddenly?

I recall a dinner conversation with the Chairman  of a large diversified multi-niche publisher two years ago. Even back then, we were speculating about the possible sudden demise of Borders. (Hey! It hasn’t happened; maybe we were wrong!) My dinner companion said, “you know, Mike, we’re as diversified as a publisher can be, but if Borders went out, we’d definitely feel it. It would really hurt us.”

“Temporarily,” I said. He needed me to explain.

“Sure, you’ll suffer a bad debt if they go out. That hurts right now. But over the next couple of years, you’ll get a lot of cheap and useful assets from competitors of yours that couldn’t withstand the blow. By a couple of years from now, you’ll be ahead.”

“You may be right,” he said.

So even with the obvious problem, a multi-niche publisher has a big advantage over a general publisher, just as it does over smaller niche players. But the ground for the general publishers is about to shift in ways that will be even more challenging.

Because “book publishing” in an increasingly vertical world is less and less about content sales in the unit of “books” (although that will be the lion’s share of revenue for a long time) and more and more about sales bigger than the book (databases that stretch across many books and other things too) or smaller than the book (chapters or fragments that naturally stand alone or which address a particular content need.) The iPhone app as a unit of delivery is accelerating the latter trend. The value of a database across titles has long been demonstrated by O’Reilly’s “Safari” offering, which generates more revenue for them than all but one trade account.

As the percentage of a publisher’s revenue that is generated by fragments and aggregations rises, so does the value of being vertical and, especially, so does the value of a direct relationship with the end users. The fragments piece is especially important, especially challenging, and requires new ways of thinking (and perhaps new contracts.) For example, Dominique Raccah, the visionary leader of Sourcebooks, whose Poetry Speaks is building a model for vertical community building, has found that many publishers of poetry aren’t sure they have the rights to license her vertical to sell individual poems! Does that mean she has to go directly to the poets for those rights? And how long will it be before it is more important to a poet to have their individual poems available for sale on Poetry Speaks than to have them available in a publisher’s collection bound as a book?

Bruce Shaw, the longtime empresario of Harvard Common Press, is demonstrating another aspect of this thinking that we’ve expected for a long time but hadn’t seen in practice before. He told us about a macaroni and cheese cookbook his house was considering for publication. Normally, Bruce reports, that’s a subject they’d skip because it just isn’t distinctive enough to make the ambitous sales targets he normally sets for print publications. But, in this case, he’s doing the book because his overall recipe database (all the thousands of recipes HCP has published in over 30 years in business) is light on mac and cheese recipes. So he’s willing to publish the book, knowing he’s going to make less profit than he normally requires, because it is a subsidized way to improve the value of his overall database of recipes.

The question of selling fragments opens up a host of other challenges: figuring out what is a saleable fragment, tagging it with an identifier and metadata, managing transaction costs for a much higher volume or low-value transactions, and retro-fitting accounting systems to process author royalties that will require increasingly complex analysis of smaller amounts of money.

In fact, there is opportunity on what might be viewed as a micro- or nano-level of transaction, too small for even a niche publisher to manage the customer relationship and the transaction. That is going to present new opportunities for our client, Copyright Clearance Center, which we’ll elaborate on in future posts.

There’s a great deal of new opportunity out there but a lot of it is in pennies, not hundred dollar bills.

Let’s hear it for Wifi in the air! This is the first post for The Shatzkin Files filed from an airplane. Boy, did I have fun at Spring Training!

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I was extremely fortunate in my “choice” of parents. I had both admiration and affection for them, and I always had a great time just shooting the bull with my dad, Leonard Shatzkin. He was a real visionary about the publishing business and was also very witty and cogent. A great deal of what passes for my insight is really just a recycling of his.

He died in May of 2002. Until the last six months or so of his life when the heart failure that killed him so weakened him that he couldn’t really think anymore, he was still working hard on what he always considered to be the most important commercial challenge for book publishers: how to manage the inventory in retail locations. In fact, he was developing a system he hoped to commercialize as a solution for independent stores. I didn’t want to say “what independent stores?” to him back then, even though it was already obvious to me that their existence was seriously threatened. Dad had shaped his view of publishing during the 1950s, when the industry was near the front end of what was nearly half-a-century of unfettered growth.

That period of growth was over by 2000, and those of us who were trying to measure the trajectory of digital change in the early 2000s couldn’t avoid seeing it. Dad might have seen it 10 or 20 years earlier, but he was intellectually and emotionally incapable of accepting it in the last few years of his life. In fact, while taking control of the inventory in independent bookstores had been the key to the growth Dad fostered at Doubleday in the 1950s and in building the Collier Books imprint, which he created, for what we now call Macmillan I in the 1960s, it didn’t present the same level of opportunity in the 2000s. He had been right for many years about this, but he wasn’t anymore.

Another immutable truth in my father’s picture of book publishing which also turned out not to be permanent was his belief that book publishers should just keep expanding their lists, pretty much without limits. When Dad launched Collier Books by doing 600 titles a year in 1962, the entire industry only produced about 10,000 titles. In Dad’s time, it was probably true that most books big houses did contributed to profits, so the more titles you did, the more profits you made. Tom McCormack, who was a protege of Dad’s in the late 1950s and then went on to a long and successful career as CEO of St. Martin’s Press (now part of Macmillan II), attributed much of his success and St. Martin’s to Tom’s own recycling of Dad’s insight.

There is this beast in publishing known as the “title P&L.” The “title P&L” proceeds from the mistaken premise that titles, standing alone, deliver profits or make losses. In fact, that’s not true, because a substantial chunk of a publishing house’s costs are not title-specific; some costs are not really attributable in any sensible way.

The way “title P&L”s normally work is that “overhead” — rent, salaries, etc. — is figured as a percentage of sales (which, if you look back to last year, is, indeed, a calculable number across any company.) By “distributing” the unattributable costs that way, the logic says, you make sure that each book covers its “share” of the costs of keeping the doors open. But, as McCormack pointed out many times over his career, the rent didn’t go up because he signed a new title and it was nonsensical to charge each title, let alone each sale, for the rent.

Dad had a very succinct and persuasive way to explain the folly of the “title P&L” logic. What he suggested is that every house do a recalculation of their overall P&L at the end of each year. To do it, they should take out every title that failed to earn back the overhead charge (usually somewhere between 35% and 45%) because those had, by the internal logic, “lost money.” Surely, if you take out all the titles that lost money, you would see your overall calculation of profits rise. Right?

But it never does, it always falls. Why is that? Because most of the titles deemed to have lost money by “title P&L” logic actually made a contribution to overhead. That is, the direct revenues attributable to that title were greater than the direct expenses charged to it; they just weren’t sufficient to be scored as profitable when the overhead tax was deducted. But if you subtract all the books that earned 6% or 10% or 19% or 34% margin on sales, you subtract actual dollar contributions to overhead and profit.

Important point: overhead and profit are both produced by gross margin on sales. When enough margin has been generated to cover all the overheads, the margin becomes profit. So titles don’t earn profits or losses, they contribute more money or less to overhead and, in some cases, actually don’t recover their direct costs. The titles that don’t recover their costs clearly have lost money; all other titles contribute to overhead and, if it is covered, to profits, but they aren’t, strictly speaking, profitable in and of themselves.

All that was true in Dad’s day and is still true today. What has changed (I think; I haven’t actually done the analysis with a real house’s numbers) is that the percentage of titles that don’t even recover their direct costs is rising. It is actually getting harder and harder to publish new titles successfully, even if the standard of success is lowered to “recovered all costs” from “delivered its pro rata contribution to overhead.”

That’s because each title published today is facing a much more challenging commercial environment than each title published two, three, four, or five decades ago. Each title competes with more titles in the marketplace and more new titles coming into the marketplace: print-on-demand and online used books have snared a great deal of market share that used to be available only to new titles and backlist kept alive in print-run quantities by publishers. And, for the past 10 years, each new title is coming into a marketplace that has less shelf space available for books overall than it had for the last title.

So the “keep publishing more and more” paradigm that Dad believed in and that McCormack credited with St. Martin’s growth may not actually work anymore. In fact, any sentient publisher today would have to look at their output regularly to recalibrate what new title publishing is actually profitable. I expect that analysts in every major house are slicing and dicing their lists, trying to figure out whether they can discern — by level of advance or subject matter or by imprint or editor or agent — which bets will return the cash invested and bring profit to the house.

We can assume those analyses are being done, but can we assume they’re being done right? Without any inside view of the details (and I don’t have one), we’ll assume (hope) that the crude application of a single overhead percentage to each title is not the standard for analysis. If it is, the house doing that will almost certainly be led to erroneous conclusions, just as Dad and Tom pointed out they were if they saw a book that contributed 30% margin as “unprofitable” and would think they’d be better off not publishing it.

The big publisher of 2010 has another problem besides the reality that new titles are harder and harder to launch to any standard of acceptable return. They also have to feed a machine built to handle a certain volume of printed books when the decline of print book sales is being accelerated by the shift to digital. The additional margins in digital (which are being produced as long as prices can be maintained) are not very helpful if they need to be diverted to pay for warehouse space, field sales forces, and higher unit printing costs because there is less print “throughput” to support them.

Big publishing management is aware of this challenge; it is part of what drives up the value (and prices) of big brand franchise authors. The big authors are still the fastest way to guarantee the volume of print output and sales necessary to fill those volume-guarantee contracts with the printers, absorb the warehouse space, and cover the cost of calling on accounts that sell print only. And look at the irony. With less volume, unit costs per book go up, which reduces total gross margin. And if warehouse and sales organization costs are fixed (they aren’t but it is hard to adjust them quickly, the way you can cut a press run or a marketing spend), then the percentage of sales they will consume will go up. So much for calculations of overhead as a percentage!

The big variable publishers have to deal with today is marketing cost. The most common rationale for list-cutting is that it will allow a greater amount of marketing attention to the books that are published. But that articulation actually begs the question, because marketing resources are variable. If you add more, you increase the overhead nut you have to cover before you get to profits. And if you reduce those resources, then you’ll be chasing your tail trying to put more marketing effort behind each title.

The analysis of how to cut has to be done; it is pure insanity for publishers to keep cranking out new titles if they are losing on many of them. Some of the ones they lose on have the potential to be big but just don’t make it; some aren’t even seen to have that potential. But the ultimate answer is not in how or how much a publisher can reduce title output, but in how they focus it. That’s the secret to reducing marketing costs and it is something we will certainly explore in another post someday.

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This post contains a reference to our next conference effort: this year’s Making Information Pay for the Book Industry Study Group. There is a survey associated with this conference about how processes and job descriptions are changing that we really hope everybody employed in a publishing house — particularly those people involved in editorial, production, marketing, and sales — will take. If you’re employed by a publisher, please respond to the survey!

Even though I personally have concerns about the precious money that could be wasted on “enhanced ebooks”, I know that we’re going to see an explosion of interest in them and a huge escalation of investment in them in the next couple of years. That’s why I’m working on a new project called Enhanced Ebook University (EEBU) about which there will be much more to say in the next few weeks.

The idea behind EEBU is, to twist a quote from Mark Twain, “everybody’s talking about enhanced ebooks but nobody is quite sure what they are.” The first task of EEBU will be to survey the possibilities of what can be done and how it can be done. The process of building the outline for the White Paper that will be part of this project has uncovered a lot of great ideas that give me some renewed hope that enhanced ebooks can be more useful, and more supportive of the immersive reading experience, than were the CD-Roms we created 15 years ago.

One thing we’re hearing often enough now so that it is becoming a new cliche is that making enhanced ebooks is “like producing a movie.” The point is that there are many creative efforts that need to be integrated. This all makes me nervous for publishers. This is not their skill set. This is CD-Rom land. This is an invitation to spend enormous sums of money creating products that will never earn back their costs.

Now what I’m wondering is whether the enhanced ebook could lead to the resurgence of a diminishing breed: the (enhanced e)book packager. It may be already happening.

Starting in the 1960s and famously led by Paul Hamlyn, who consecutively created and then sold packagers Hamlyn and then Octopus, the UK-based packagers of heavily-illustrated books intended to be delivered in multiple languages became a critical component of commercial book production worldwide. The “packaged” book had a number of requirements that challenged publishers. They were illustration- and design-intensive; they required large amounts of subject and photo research that then needed to be rendered in a consistent and (for each title) formulaic way; and they required an understanding of design and language requirements so that they could be printed for different language markets with just a black plate change. (Some languages consistently take more characters to express the same thought than others and knowledge of those details was a component of the packagers’ expertise.)

Packaging evolved over the years. Some packagers, like Dorling Kindersley and Octopus, went for the greater margins of being publishers. With the greater margins, of course, also came greater risk as they invested in books, rather than being hired hands creating them on the back of a publisher’s firm order for copies. (One major packager — Quarto — evolved into a bifurcated company that is half-packager and half-publisher.) As the bookstore chains and other large customers like the mass merchants grew, they sometimes went directly to the packagers at Frankfurt, rather than waiting for a publisher to buy the book and offer it to them. That disintermediation reduced cover prices for the packaged books in those outlets which put further pressure on any attempts by publishers to sell the books in the remaining parts of the market.

Packagers existed for a reason: they added value. They organized themselves differently from publishers, focusing on complex project management challenges that publishers didn’t want. They set up important relationships, with Asian printers and with photo stock houses, and developed skill sets, for templated design and efficient assembly of books from multiple component parts, that publishers didn’t have.

So today we have ScrollMotion (which acts, in many ways, like a publisher), Brad Inman’s Vook in the United States and Peter Collingridge’s Enhanced Editions in the UK and, according to Peter Meyers — a veritable font of knowledge on this subject that I just tapped for EEBU — literally hundreds of others that now call themselves “app developers” offering up the equivalent of book packaging services for enhanced ebooks. These entities probably have a bright immediate future; they can do things that publishers will find themselves highly challenged to do for themselves.

In these still early days of developing the EEBU idea, it had already occurred to me that agents were going to be playing in this sandbox. When I first looked at Blio, it seemed immediately to me that authors had a key role to play and Blio’s very intuitive toolkit made it possible for them to do that. I included an agent in my initial round of readers for the EEBU White Paper outline because I believe that  before very long big agents will be hiring staff to help their authors execute enhanced ebooks. Meyers, who seems seems to have done more thinking about this subject than anybody else I’ve met (I’m meeting Collingridge next week at Tools of Change), also posited that agents could become the new packagers in the emerging enhanced ebook landscape.

One other point has arisen repeatedly in our early research for EEBU and also touches on another upcoming project of ours: the next BISG Making Information Pay conference that we’re organizing which, this year, is on “Points of No Return.” (That’s the one I want publishing company employees to take the survey on.) PONR is trying to assess how much the workflows and jobs will change in editorial, production, marketing, and sales as the digital revolution takes hold. That project intersects this discussion: when we make ebooks first or enhanced ebooks often, will the required skill sets change so much for editorial and production people that the current incumbents will be unqualified?

At least one expert I’ve talked to thinks they will be. A friend who has worked in trade publishing but who is now oveseeing vast programs that create college textbooks says that the editorial skill sets that work for print alone don’t seem to port to multi-media. I have heard this before. When we were doing research for the BISG conference in 2008, a digital operator at Wiley made a very similar observation.

The use of outside packagers for ebooks might not work as well as it did for illustrated books twenty and thirty years ago. Packaged books, generally, did not have single authors or, if they did, the author was secondary to the idea and to the package. In fact, the author was usually hired by the packager that had the idea rather than the author developing and pitching the idea, which is how the agented-author book usually works with publishers. That argues for the agent-as-packager model.

Or it argues that some kinds of enhanced ebooks — the movie-like ones — won’t be the purview of publishers at all. I saw somebody suggesting an enhanced ebook of Avatar. Good idea. I had the same idea. But the way I’ve been thinking about it is that it will come from the film producer. It would be a lot easier for somebody working for James Cameron to pull five minutes of movie clips and 100 stills and hire somebody to turn the script into a ten thousand word narrative than it would be for somebody working for a book publisher to do this. Why would anybody think a book publisher would be needed for a tie-in of this kind in an app and enhanced ebook world? The publisher was needed for thebook tie-in because the publisher put the product on store shelves. Publishers have no advantage over movie studios for access to the App or Kindle stores.

On the other hand, there are a lot of enhancements to ebooks that aren’t so movie-like and which would be more like what an author or publisher could provide expertise to do better: character description capsules; background material about a person, place or thing; back story narratives that would interrupt the flow for most people; links to sources or further information. It could be that the Baker & Taylor Blio tool, and other things like it that are coming along, will enable an author and editor to accomplish a lot of that. They can even mix in the video. But it wouldn’t make them qualified to shoot it or even curate it, let alone negotiate for any rights.

That’s the kind of thing we’ll be exploring in the EEBU project.

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Michael Cader did a brilliant analysis of Thursday’s New York Times piece on ebook pricing, published exclusively for paid subscribers to Publishers Lunch. The Times piece’s shortcoming was that it tended to sensationalize the news that the prices the public will pay for current brand-name ebooks will be going up. If you observe the book business for fun, you can perhaps afford not to have access to content like Michael’s analysis. But if you’re in it for a living and you want to seriously keep up with what’s going on, I suggest you save $20 somehow on other publications each month and reinvest it in a Publishers Marketplace membership. I am not the only blogger moved to make this suggestion by this piece.

I am working under the rash assumption that Cader will not sue me for quoting his remarks without regard to fair use limitations (particularly after the commercial in that first paragraph.) Of course, I do my best to add some Shatzkin Files value to my quotes and paraphrases as well.

Michael’s overall point, as I read it (and these are my words, not his): “we in the business know what’s going on with ebook pricing; apparently reporters outside the business do not. And therefore a great deal of misunderstanding is circulated among the book-buying public and it behooves the trade publishing community to get the word out to make sure that the public understands what’s really behind what they pay for ebooks.”

His device to illustrate this point is to describe some common misunderstandings fostered by the Times piece — all of which are real misunderstandings and none of which are just convenient straw horses — and knock them down.

Frankly, it is only the overall point on which I’m not sure I agree. I am not convinced it makes much difference whether we push the “truth” out or not. Amazon’s recent “concession” statement over the Macmillan dust-up tried to channel potential consumer anger at Macmillan and away from them. That’s an effort that is bound to fail. Everybody who buys from Amazon knows that they’re buying from Amazon. On the other hand, “Macmillan” is not an active book imprint at the moment in the United States. The books the corporation called Macmillan puts out are under the imprints St. Martin’s, Farrar Straus, and Holt, and their subsidiary imprints. My wife found the Macmillan Dictionary for Children online and that book is published by Simon & Schuster! So good luck to Amazon trying to get the consumer to punish a corporate entity whose name isn’t on the cover of its books.

But the myths Cader describes are ubiquitous misunderstandings and they were clearly promoted in the Times piece. As Michael describes them (in italics):

* $9.99 never was the top e-book price; people pay more than that every day.

The Times piece makes a big deal out of consumer expectations of the $9.99 price. Cader points out that recent data from the ebook retailer Kobo described at Digital Book World — which shows that at Kobo they sell as many books for more than $9.99 as they do for exactly $9.99 — and Amazon’s own data undercut that notion. Cader says surveys of Amazon data have shown that 30% of the SKUs are priced higher than $9.99.

I have been told directly by a responsible person at Amazon that 4% of the titles they sell are deep-discounted to $9.99 and those represent 25% of the total sales. Of the other 75% of the sales, many (most) are less than $9.99 without necessarily deep-discounting, according to Cader, 30% are more. I have personally bought many Kindle books for more than $9.99 and some for more than $14.99.

But what I’d see as the biggest fallacy in this whole “customer expectations” meme was not mentioned by Cader. So far we have a relatively small percentage of book readers who have ever purchased an ebook at all! General consumer expectations can not be set by a sliver of the group who are early adapters. In fact, publishers are being smart precisely because they are tackling this consumer pricing problem before the market really does become general and a large population of book readers do have experience with the current price structure.

* The implicit, false promise of cheap e-books was made by the people who profit, at very nice margins, from selling the devices, not from publishers.

This is true for the $9.99 books offered by Amazon and Sony and, now, Barnes & Noble. Other etailers, like Kobo or B&N before the Nook, were offering that same price to keep up with (keep down with?) Amazon. But the central point is right. Amazon created the expectation of $9.99 pricing to sell readers; publishers didn’t create it to sell books!

The two companies most likely to save publishers from an Amazon stranglehold on their future general readership, Apple and Google, would also place “margin from ebook sales” very low on their list of objectives for participation in the ebook supply chain.

If the market really could stabilize with three or more reliable paths to the general ebook consumer, with price competition among the content,  but not price-competition driven by external forces, it would be one of the most important strategic accomplishments of the current generation of publishing management, to whatever degree their policies enabled it to happen.

* Brand-new ebooks sold at $9.99 are generally sold at a loss by the retailer.

And, as Cader goes on to point out, this is led by a retailer with a $50 billion market cap with an implicit expectation that it will drive smaller retailers out of the game. Publishers are taking the steps they are explicitly to encourage a more diverse marketplace. So, Mr. and Ms. Consumer, whose side are you on?

* People who can afford an ereading device can afford all proposed ebook prices.

Cader is making the point that conscientious reporters should make put price complaints into context. I’d personally dwell more on the “dog bites man” aspect of reporting that people favor lower prices. Has anybody ever found a consumer who favored higher prices? Has anybody ever found anybody who would prefer to pay more for anything they buy? From here it would seem that all reports of what people say they want to pay or say they would pay in some hypothetical circumstances are pretty much meaningless. Michael says “put them in context.” I really wonder whether this kind of senselessly speculative commentary ought to be reported at all!

* Publishers are lowering [my emphasis] their ebook prices.

Cader captures the massive irony of what is going on here with this one. From reading this piece or from reading Amazon’s note to Macmillan, you’d get the impression that “greedy” publishers are “raising” ebook prices. That’s not actually the case. The publishers going to the Agency model are actually reducing their price per unit sold; they’re just insisting that booksellers not sell those books as loss leaders. As Cader put it, “we in the trade know that publishers are preparing to lower their ebook prices by 50 percent or more, and reduce their own profit margins. But customers don’t; they hear that publishers are raising prices.”

* The new “top price” is going to be $12.99 more often than not.

The public reporting is that the Agency-priced books from Apple will be $12.99 and $14.99, with no additional detail. Cader seems to know that most, or at least a large number, of those books will be at the lower of those two prices. Undoubtedly, some people will refuse a book they want to read on a device they paid over $200 for because of a $5 difference in price ($14.99) from their prior expectation ($9.99). But somewhat fewer will be reluctant at $12.99, which is where the price will apparently be a great deal of the time. Certainly, nobody writing for a newspaper knows the future balance between those two price points.

* Surveys show many people will pay more than $9.99 for ebooks.

Cader points out (and my personal repeated experience confirms) that people often do pay more than $9.99 now, even according to the stats we’ve seen. But what he doesn’t point out, so I will, is that those stats are stacked!  Amazon prices all the hottest and most desireable books at $9.99, and therefore so does Kobo and other Amazon competitors. So the clustering of consumer purchasing around that price is largely driven by the appeal of the product at that price point.

That is: people bought the book, not the price!

* Goldman Sachs says ebook prices are not the biggest factor in purchasing a device–but expensive devices are an obstacle.

This is from a survey that Cader has seen and I have not. But the point is that portability is the main benefit consumers see in ebook devices, with price running second and ease of purchase nearly even with price as a perceived benefit. Ebook purchase decisions are not made on price alone.

What this data also would tell us is that ebook reading is going to spread because the price of devices is coming down and the circulation of ebook-able devices, smartphones and iPads, is increasing regardless of dedicated reader prices.

* Publishers have rewarded and honored early ereader adopters with a lot of free book giveaways, and some very inexpensive price promotions.

Much has been made in other places (not in the Times piece and not in Cader’s report) of the fact that the Kindle “bestseller list” contains a lot of free or almost-free books. Some of those are public domain titles, but many are not. Those that aren’t are provided by publishers as promotions, usually an offer of an older book by a multi-title author who has a new one just out. Does any retailer billboard the publishers who “have made books available for you for free?” Not that I’ve ever seen.

I do believe that the price of content will be driven down over time because of the laws of supply and demand. The amount of content being made available every day is staggering. However, the established publishing companies still have pretty much a monopoly position on curating and branding it. Curating and branding save consumers an enormous amount of time and effort; that’s why they are willing to pay for them. Publishers and the authors whose brands they are enhancing and maxmizing are operating in an increasingly competitive world, but they are both totally sensible and totally unremarkable in trying to maximize the rewards for their efforts.

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One thing that makes trade publishing companies a bit confusing to outsiders is that they’re all organized a little differently. I remember years ago when the great editor, the late Alan Williams, was running a small general trade house near the end of his career. At one point, Alan’s sales and marketing director came to him and said, “I’d like to have publicity, which now reports in to ‘publishing’, report to me.” And Alan said, “fine.”

Then a few months later, the sales and marketing director said, “I’d like to have subsidiary rights, which now reports in to ‘publishing’, report to me.” And Alan said “no.” Alan’s logic was: “I need the capabilities of subsidiary rights reporting to me to make acquisition and product development decisions.” (Those were clearly different times, when book club and paperback sales potential could affect an acquisition decision, which they almost certainly wouldn’t today.) But, even then, Alan recognized that a different editor-publisher doing different books might look at it precisely the other way around.

In an ideal publishing world, the vision of a book and its market promulgated by an author and “gotten” by an acquiring editor, will guide all the work done by (in large houses) legions of people to develop the book’s editorial quality and presentation in any form, its “messaging” for marketing, its pricing, and its ultimate merchandising and delivery to the public.

I have observed for years that “each book published presents the opportunity to make an unlimited number of decisions, which must be resisted”. In big houses, those decisions are often made by committee. It creates a lot of meetings; more meetings than anybody can stand. That’s why good publishing management is constantly trying to delineate the lines of authority for decision-making because just about everything can become the subject of a cross-functional committee, if you let it.

Which raises the question of how you do introduce cross-functional ideas to a publishing house at anything other than the CEO or COO level, a strategy which has its own limitations. On Friday, we had a company in our office seeking our advice about how to advance their proposition. They were a large Indian printer with strong capabilities bolted at both ends: prepress services that included XML workflows and content conversion and complete warehousing fulfillment services, down to the single copy level. They could see all sorts of problems they could solve for publishers that would reduce costs and grow sales, particularly with supply to Africa, which is a problematic but growing market.

They had already engaged one of the most senior and knowledgeable consultants in the industry to help them. He just couldn’t find the “right” person to talk to in each house. Efficiencies that result from more sensible linking of prepress to printing, or printing to warehousing and fulfillment, will fall in multiple bailiwicks in any publisher of consequence. He called us; we called in two other senior consultants who might be able to help. It was a sales development meeting for all of us (that’s consultant-speak for “an uncompensated opportunity to help somebody in the hope that work might result from it”.) But none of us felt the integrated services and cost savings would be easy to sell because of the structural impediments. The best advice that came out of that meeting (and it wasn’t from me) was “sell them that you can grow revenue in Africa; revenue enhancements are easier to sell than savings.”

We’ve been helping a client called SBS Worldwide tackle a similar problem. The label most publishers would put on them is “freight forwarder”, but because they are entreprenurial, aggressive, and creative out-of-the-box thinkers, they’ve built capabilities that make them much more than that. By forming a partnership with a big company in China, they have put freight-forwarding capabilities (which, standing alone, consist merely of commissioning the transport companies to move goods — usually by land, then by sea, and then by land — and keeping track of where the goods are throughout their journey) into the same service offering as warehousing, pick and pack, splitting and combining shipments, and handwork like stickering or prepack assembly. And they deliver these services at Asia prices, not Western prices. SBS wrapped it all up with a great web-based reporting system that “sees” the goods from end to end any way you want to, tied a ribbon around it, and called it eDC for “electronic Distribution Center.”

The capabilities this offers a publisher — with no capital investment — doing a lot of printing in China for the American or European markets are enormous. They can consolidate shipments from four printers, split off 700 separate packages for the Barnes & Noble stores, the shipments to the top five distribution center customers, and 200 review copies (with a press release folded in), and send each its most efficient way directly from Asia.

And they can hold books in Asia if they aren’t needed right away and the publisher’s warehouse is full or would like them “metered” in. I am aware of two major houses who have expressed warehouse space pain within the past year. I don’t imagine asking for cash for more warehouse space would be well received in the current business environment.

And eDC can customize looks at those shipments so that each stakeholder inside or outside the publisher can see their own view: their distribution center, their customers’ distribution centers, their sales people, and their editors. This can take an enormous communications burden off their organization.

The challenge SBS faces is that the freight forwarder is viewed as the most commoditized and least important component of the supply chain (they don’t absorb much of the budget compared to the other costs of delivering the inventory). Many publishers just let the printer “deliver” to their warehouse (so the printer may be choosing the freight forwarder). In that case, the production director is “buying” what SBS is selling, and it isn’t crazy that production’s first instinct is to let the printer handle it. (After all, they’re trying to choose the lowest “landed price” for the book, aren’t they?)

Some larger houses have a “supply chain management” function, which takes a broader view. But, even there, vested interests come into play. Does the house need to continue showing “throughput” to justify distribution center fixed costs? Does the supply chain department or production department even want to develop a routine involvement with marketing functions like review copies and sales interactions like delivery to Barnes & Noble stores?

Print book publishing is shrinking because of the alternatives being offered by technology. Sometimes technology can turn that shrinking into an advantage by collapsing functions, or reconfiguring the relationship between departments. But publishers are structurally resistant to entertaining propositions that could do just that. There’s no widely applicable solution to this problem except to have an energetic COO that looks for solutions with a broader organizational perspectives that her functional heads might resist.

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Now I swear all this is true. As everybody knows, a very serious food fight broke out between Amazon and Macmillan late Friday night. All weekend Michael Cader led the way in ferreting out additional useful information and I spent most of today (Sunday) trying to write an analytical blogpost. I got it just about finished in the early afternoon, and the bottom line to what I’d written was “Amazon will not be able to sustain this.”

I decided to hold the post until after going to see Crazy Heart this afternoon and, when I came home, Amazon had already folded. But I had written a post that provided a lot of useful information, even if events had stolen my punchline.

So I’m giving it the once-over to edit it for the reality that Amazon has already announced that they will not continue to boycott Macmillan books.

It is received wisdom in Washington that when you have news you have to release but would prefer to have minimum impact, you release it on Friday afternoon. The latest tiff in the Amazon versus Big Publisher brouhaha went that idea one better; it appears to have broken in the middle of the Friday-to-Saturday night.

About midnight that evening, David Wilk alerted the Brantley list to a VentureBeat post that indicated that Macmillan titles were no longer available at Amazon.

By noon the following day, Brad Stone had posted a further explanation to the NY Times blog.

The VentureBeat post had no clue as to what was going on and even carried a link to a post from author John Scalzi suspecting a “glitch.” But Stone pinned down that the disappearance of the Macmillan titles was, indeed, retaliation for Macmillan’s move to the agency pricing model, first revealed by Michael Cader in Publishers Lunch and discussed on this blog last week.

Sometime late Saturday afternoon, Lunch posted a narrative explaining what was going on and including a paid insertion from Macmillan: a letter from Chairman and CEO John Sargent giving Macmillan’s account of what had transpired.

Which, as many people who care know by now (as I write this on Sunday morning and afternoon) is that Macmillan told Amazon about the new agency model, by which Amazon would actually get ebooks at lower prices than now but also by which Macmillan would set the prices to consumers. Amazon retaliated with what is, more or less, a “nuclear option.” Macmillan books are no longer on sale except through third party vendors (extending the ban to those dealers would open up yet another big can of worms for Amazon and they hardly need any more) and that includes Kindle. Most of the third party vendors are selling used books and no Macmillan books are being transacted directly by Amazon at all.

We have said on this blog, repeatedly, that publishers’ discounts to retailers would have to come down and that the windowing tactic (delaying ebooks from being available when the hardcover first comes out) was all about pricing control and nothing else.

What I want to accomplish in this post is to lay out clearly what is happening and then enumerate some key points about what’s going on: paradoxes and prospects.

Before the Agency Model (like “now”), publishers sell ebooks at about 50 off an often ridiculously high established price (”parity” is common; same price as a hardcover on a new book) to retailers who were setting the prices to the consumer themselves and, following Amazon’s lead, always discounting. The publishers are paying the authors royalties that are frequently 25% of net, which amounts to 12.5% of publisher declared retail. Some publishers pay 15% of retail; Sargent, in a previous letter to agents, indicated a desire to move from 25% of net to 20% of net, which would be 10% of retail.

The proposed Agency Model will have publishers setting a price lower than the established retail they had before but higher than the deep discounts Amazon led retailers to sell at. The publisher intends to  pay 30% of that established price to the retailer and 25% of either the full consumer price or of the 70% “net” (still to be determined) to the author. This means that the retailer will get a higher price from the consumer and a better margin than they realize now (even though a lower percentage of the “established” price). The author’s cut per copy could actually be reduced!

The wholesalers, Ingram and Content Reserve, often get the same discount as publishers. They handle the stores and libraries publishers serve don’t want to deal with directly. So those stores and libraries get less margin than the big ones publishers handle without an intermediary. One thing that was new to me that came out on the Ebook Supply Chain panel at Digital Book World is that publishers insisted on vetting the accounts that would be selling their books to make sure they didn’t violate territorial restrictions. So Ingram (and presumably Content Reserve) has to manage a granular control by title by publisher by account.

It is not at all clear how the Agency and price maintenance protocols get applied through wholesalers. Perhaps this means that smaller accounts and libraries just won’t have the newer titles that will only be released on the Agency basis (assuming that the scenario Sargent describes is what is also followed by other big publishers.)

This is a bizarre paradox, really. Macmillan actually proposed to sell Amazon the ebooks at what is, in effect, a lower wholesale price than Amazon gets now and their enforcement of a retail price puts more margin into Amazon’s pocket on every sale made than they earn now! And Amazon is fighting it.

Sargent’s note makes clear that the discount-off-retail pricing that has existed all along will still be offered, but that newer books wouldn’t be included in that offering. Those would be available only on Agency terms. What is not clear is whether Macmillan intends to continue the Agency terms past the nine-month “window” for new books. We’d guess they will for some accounts.

But that leads to another paradox because publishers unambiguously benefit if retailers sacrifice their own margin and discount when hardcover price maintenance and NY Times Bestseller list rankings are not at stake. Lower prices to consumers sell more copies. Presumably retailers will continue to want to compete on price and will do so when sales terms allow. But what does that do to the publishers’ challenge of “setting” prices for those accounts that want that done across the entire list?

Yet another paradox is the position of the agents. On the one hand, we have seen that many of those representing big authors see the same danger the big publishers do of inexpensive ebooks undercutting valuable hardcover sales and Times Bestseller rankings. On the other hand, publishers lowering established ebook prices and reducing their take from their intermediaries could often mean lower royalties for authors. But not necessarily.

If publishers are paying on “net receipts” (and many are) and if a) retail prices aren’t cut by as much as half (which they often won’t be) and b) if the publisher doesn’t deduct the Agency “commission” from its computation of net (sure to be debated), then the basis of the author’s royalty wouldn’t go down.

Quick summary: if you have a $25 list price ebook on which the author’s royalty is 25% of net, the author is now getting 25% of $12.50, or $3.125. If that book becomes a $15 ebook with a 30% commission, the author would get $3.75 (a nice increase) if the commission is not deducted first and $2.625 if it is (a sharp cut.) Of course, the $25 and $15 prices described here are notional and with different prices (as they say) “your results will vary.” If that notional book had been priced at $30 in hardcover, the author’s share would have been $4.50 and the ebook price change would clearly cost them something on every copy.

Author Charles Stross had a very insightful post on his blog, speaking from the perspective a gored ox (he has books published by Macmillan which have been taken down.) Stross makes clear that Amazon is miffed because their competitive strategy of driving away ebook competition through aggressive discounting will be foiled by publisher price-setting. Stross says:

Amazon are going to fight this one ruthlessly because if the publishers win, it destroys the profitability of their business and pushes prices down.

I’m not sure it “pushes prices down”; I think it actually pushes (ebook) prices up, at least temporarily. But the points Stross makes about Amazon wanting to achieve ebook hegemony and the Agency model being part of the publishers’ plan to beat that back and strengthen other players seem right to me.

We had a lot of this conversation last Spring before Sourcebooks’s windowing move with Bran Hambric, followed by Hachette with True Compass and HarperCollins with Going Rogue, pushed this tussle between Amazon and publishers to the forefront. In his analysis at that time, Cader made the point that publishers were actually helping Amazon undercut other retailers with their “parity” pricing; making the ebook retail the same price as the hardcover print retail. His logic was that the high prices increased Amazon’s advantage over other retailers because they could better afford to sell high-profile titles at a loss than their competition. Meanwhile, the publishers (and authors working on “net”) continue to get higher ebook revenues than the consumer spending would really entitle them to.

My first question when all this arose overnight on Friday was “why Macmillan?” Sargent’s note may have answered that question: because John was in Seattle on Thursday officially delivering Amazon the Agency Model news that we only assume is going to come to them from other publishers as well. One presumes that Amazon thinks that taking such drastic action as this might discourage the other publishers thinking about doing the same thing (and the iPad announcement on Wednesday would lead us to think that four of the remaining five Big Six players are indeed working out the details of a similar consumer-price-controlling sales model.)

And Amazon apparently figured out, as I was writing these words, that the only brand blown to smithereens by the nuclear option would be theirs. It is hard to imagine how extensive the brand damage could have been if Amazon delisted even one more major publisher along with Macmillan for even a couple of weeks. For a brand whose principal attributes are dependability and dedication to the consumer, it would have been catastrophic.

Amazon says now that the boycott is temporary and they were candid about the fact that they have no choice but to yield. They take a swipe at the publishers’ copyright-based “monopoly” on titles. But this was a really bungled response on every level. Amazon deserves credit for being smart enough to walk this thing back within 48 hours. Amazon may have to learn something new for them in the ebook space: how to be one of a number of players, not the only game in town.

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A simple and perfectly sensible suggestion emerged on the Brantley email list yesterday but the conversation around it showed that some stark realities about the book world have not yet been taken on board, even in very sophisticated circles (which this list is.)

The list discussed a suggestion from librarian Josh Greenberg  that publishers take note of the “rental” model built into the iTunes store as an alternative way to collect money from readers for ebooks.

Greenberg’s piece calls out a fact that many people in publishing have a great deal of difficulty with: that all ebook sales must be licensing deals. They can’t be anything else. Greenberg says:

“When we think about iTunes, we think about a basic fee-for-purchase model. We’ll just leave aside the fact that you never truly “own” a digital file, you’re just buying a particularly-structured license to use it…”

He’s right. When you deal in printed books, you have a tangible object. When you deal in ebooks, you only have “code”. The first sale doctrine says you can re-sell the book or lend it or share it. But copyright law says you can’t re-sell, lend, or share copyrighted “code.” Many digerati (and many librarians not named Josh Greenberg) refuse to acknowledge this distinction.

But that’s a legal point, one that can be debated until a court or a Congress makes a ruling (and then beyond, actually, since we continue to fight battles even after courts or Congress have rendered their conclusion.) The challenge to Greenberg’s idea of switching to a rental model is not so debatable. It’s practical.

Implementing new models for book sales requires herding cats. It can never be done fast and many business ideas relating to content have foundered because it couldn’t be done at all.

What should be clear to anybody who has been following developments since the days a decade or more ago whenRocketbook and Softbook and Sprout were trying to get publishers to give them rights for their content propositions is that it takes a very persuasive sales pitch to get publishers to do so. That sales pitch must be delivered publisher by publisher, and then the impressive ability of publishers to discuss a problem to death takes over, and the new proposition might itself die before its owner gets an answer. Or certainly before its owner gets enough answers to get the new idea off the ground.

What was further made clear by the participation of agents at Digital Book World, and particularly by the opinions expressed by superagent Robert Gottlieb on the ebook “timing” panel, is that the publishers don’t make this decision without consulting with their upstream gatekeepers. Gottlieb made clear that a) it takes a very small number of lost hardcover sales to make an author’s book slip notches on the New York Times Bestseller list, b) he and his authors believe that a much cheaper ebook, or perhaps any ebook at all not reported as a hardcover sale, can make that critical difference between being Number 1 or being much further down the list, and c) the difference in several places on that list is worth losing some sales over.

So just imagine how Gottlieb and his star clients (and all the other agents and star clients) would react to a rental model!

Let’s add one more point before the next great suggestion is made. The same thing will be true of an even better model than rental (which also has plenty of precedent in media even closer to publishers, audio books): subscription sales.

The switch that Apple has made to the “agency model” is not of equivalent complexity from a business perspective. There we’re still “selling the book” (although we’re really licensing access to a file) and the amount of money flowing to the publisher is comparable. But, even there, the switch will not be simple. Publishers have signed contracts governing almost all their ebook sales (which is a further demonstration that this is different from selling physical books, for which signed contracts between publishers and vendors is by far the exception, not the hard and fast rule) which one could imagine the purchasing party (Amazon, Ingram, Content Reserve, Barnes & Noble, Kobo) believes prevents the publisher from changing the rules in the middle of the game.

What Michael Cader reported last week which we expanded on in a blog post and a CNN interview is that publishers can use the new agency model to hold back books from channels where they can’t control the pricing. This very much underreported exchange between Steve Jobs and Walter Mossberg of the Wall Street Journal makes it very clear that Apple expects vendors who would undercut the pricing publishers set for them will be denied access to the content.

We can look forward to continued battles over pricing and over the terms of sale between publishers and the downstream players in the ebook supply chain. But I think it will be a while before real alternative distribution schemes to the public make any appearances. In fact, they’re likely to occur in vertical niches first, where the big agents are less involved and the number of publishers one needs to get on board is something less than “just about all of them.”

A quick thanks to everybody who attended Digital Book World (and there were a lot of you.) I am hoping that the fact that all I’ve heard is praise and enthusiasm for the two day event is not just a result of people being kind to the guy who put the program together. I think we really did generate discussion on some issues that had previously been neglected. But most of all I’m proud of the job we did selecting panelists; everyone I saw presenting was smart, well-prepared and entertaining. Some we had seen in front of audiences before; some we only knew through our interviews in person or on the phone. But picking them carefully and one by one certainly seemed to work and it is the same formula we’ll use putting together Digital Book World 2011. I hope we’ll see everybody again there next year.

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If the reporting by Publishers Lunch today is accurate (and I’ve never known it not to be), publishers may have used the entry of Apple into the ebook arena as an opportunity to change the entire paradigm of ebook distribution for major books. And while the great excitement about Apple and ebooks has been based on hopes that the new Apple Tablet that the world expects to be announced next week will add a lot of new ebook consumers, the change in the sales protocols will probably have a much more profound impact on the ebook market than the device. Or at least that’s how it looks from here.

Sorry, I can’t link to this story because it is only in the subscriber version of Lunch and a link would just send you into a pay wall. If you’re paying, you’ve got the story in your email version of Lunch.

What Michael Cader reports in Lunch is that publishers have worked out agreement with Apple to switch from a “wholesale” model to an “agency” model for ebook sales. The wholesale model imitates the physical world: the publisher “sells” the “book” to an intermediary (could be a retailer like Amazon or BN or a wholesaler like Ingram) based on the publisher’s established retail price and a discount schedule. Then the purchaser will re-sell that ebook at whatever price they like. When publishers offered discounts that were the same as the physical world discounts, they partially subsidized retailers who wanted to offer much lower ebook prices to consumers.

The “agency” model is based on the idea that the publisher is selling to the consumer and, therefore, setting the price, and any “agent”, which would usually be a retailer but wouldn’t have to be, that creates that sale would get a “commission” from the publisher for doing so. Since Apple’s normal “take” at the App Store is 30% and discounts from publishers have normally been 50% off the established retail price, publishers can claw back margin even if they don’t get Apple to concede anything from the 30%.

So making this change, if it works, accomplishes three things for big publishers. The obvious two are that they gain a greater degree of control over ebook pricing than they ever had over print book pricing and they get to rewrite the supply chain splits of the consumer dollar.

But the third advantage for the big guys is the most devilish of all: they may gain a permanent edge over smaller players on ebook margins. That is one that, truth be known, was already playing out as Amazon used its leverage to reduce the share smaller publishers got from Kindle sales. But this could institutionalize it.

Cader reports that the conversations between Apple and publishers have, so far, been confined to the Big Six (Random House, HarperCollins, Hachette Book Group, Simon & Schuster, Penguin, and Macmillan.) Obviously, these are separate conversations and they might not all come up with the same splits. (One can only imagine how hard publishers are fighting for “most favored nation” clauses. What a nightmare it would be to find out two months from now that you’re paying 5 or 10 points more commission than your competitors!)

To say that this news leaves us with more questions than answers would be a major understatement.

How will this work, mechanically? Will the publishers actually serve the titles, or will Apple or the other consumer-connected entities making the sale? Well, of course, we don’t know, but Brian Murray of HarperCollins, extensively quoted by Cader and, after all, the publisher whose discussions with Amazon were the first to break in a Wall Street Journal story, has long championed the idea that publishers should maintain control of their files, not distribute them to many intermediaries. The agency concept fits neatly with that paradigm. On the other hand, one would presume that Apple has to serve what comes from the App Store and, certainly, that Amazon would have to deliver what went into a Kindle. So departures from executing a pure agency model should be expected. Call it a “virtual” agency model!

How will retailers not named Amazon react? Presumably this will make players like BN.com, Kobo, and others very happy because, with publisher-set pricing, they no longer have to lose money on every sale to compete with Amazon. On the other hand, retailers really like to control pricing; it’s one of the main weapons in their arsenal. And if Amazon doesn’t play along (yet another question), then these other retailers could have a temporary advantage because they’ll have hot titles that Amazon would not.

How widespread will be the implementation, across publishers and across lists? One has to assume that the hidden hand of the agent community is present in these decisions. For one thing, agents have been as concerned as big publishers with the market and pricing power being concentrated at Amazon and this tactic addresses that directly. Since big publishers are even more responsive to agents than they are to major accounts, that would suggest a) that all the Big Six will play and b) that they will implement this strategy across their lists. And, as Cader points out, having some books handled as Agency and others as Wholesale is a potential management nightmare.

What will Amazon do? The question might be “what can Amazon do?” It is relatively easy for Amazon to pressure one publisher at a time, using their control of buy buttons and marketing recommendations. Nobody I know can say how extensive that kind of behavior is from them, but we know they engaged in a public spat with Hachette in the UK and threatened publishers a few years ago that they wouldn’t sell their POD books if they were at Lightning and not in Amazon’s own POD repository. And there are stories told privately — never publicly — of pressure tactics of a similar kind aimed quietly at particular recalcitrants at particular times. But if all the Big Six publishers do this with widespread support from the agent community, it is hard to see exactly what Amazon can do. Certainly, not having high profile titles available that are being sold at competing retailers for competing platforms would not be an acceptable situation, even for a fairly short time. But Amazon is resourceful and creative, they have a lot of power, and they are being faced with the first real threat to their marketplace power.

What does all this mean for enhanced ebooks? Frankly, if this works, I think publishers may find enhanced ebooks (except in very standardized ways such as I suggested in one, two, three blogposts many months ago) losing their allure. As I wrote last week, nobody has really invented an enhanced formula that has gained widespread public acceptance. The attraction of enhanced ebooks was their potential for keeping ebook prices up for branded authors. If the agency solution works, that mission might be accomplished with a lot less investment and risk, and delivering a product we know the public wants: books in the creative form that they have enjoyed for years.

Although I’m as excited as the next guy by the coming Apple Tablet, I really don’t think it will change the world for ebooks. It’s too big, too heavy, too expensive, and likely to be too consumptive of battery power to be a better ereader for most people than a Kindle, a Sony Reader, an iPhone, or one of the many other devices announced last week at CES. My own hunch is that the Tablet won’t be as powerful a catalyst for ebooks as the Kindle was or the iPhone has been. (That’s okay: year-on-year ebook sales are up 300% through November so they don’t actually need a lot of extra impetus…)

But Apple’s entry into the market, if it was the tool to get this Agency model off the ground, might have a very profound effect on the ebook world going into the future. I wonder if this is the last big disruption before Google Editions. And I the next thing to ponder, although we have a bit of time, if this will in any way disrupt that.

All of this just makes me glad that Michael Cader is one of my panelists on the Ebook Tipping Point panel next week at Digital Book World! And that I’ve got a powerful agent, Larry Kirshbaum, joining Michael, Ken Brooks, Evan Schnittman, and me on the stage for that discussion.

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Is this where I came in?

In the early 1990s, the computer manufacturers and Microsoft were doing everything they could to persuade businesses and consumers that they really, really, really needed CD-Rom drives. That Microsoft would benefit from them was very clear; the software they were selling was taking more and more diskettes to deliver in those pre-broadband, pre-Web days when all software was “shrinkwrapped.” If computer owners could take their new software on CD-Roms, the cost of delivering the product would drop dramatically.

Only a year or two before, Bob Stein had developed what we can now identify as the first “enhanced ebooks”. His company, Voyager, introduced the “Expanded Book”. These were the first efforts to use the book as the foundation to do something much more ambitious: linking in pictures and sound and video and databased information. No web links yet, because there was no web yet, but the Voyager Expanded Books really foresaw the possibilities.

Microsoft encouraged publishers to build on the Voyager Expanded Books example with CD-Roms, and, indeed, the Voyager product itself moved quickly from a diskette-based product to a CD-Rom, which gave it a multiple of the digital space to add content.

Publishers at that time had recent experience with new product forms. In the early 1980s, a few had experimented with software publishing, but that was quickly seen not to work and the publishers who tried it, like Wiley, pretty quickly got out. In the mid-1980s, audiobooks first came on the scene, however, and their acceptance, fueled by the ubiquity of tape players in cars and the relatively new Sony Walkman family of portable cassette players, was very rapid. With the encouragement of Microsoft and the hardware makers promising that all computers would soon have CD-Rom drives, many publishers jumped into what we can look back and see was an enhanced ebook business with both feet.

It turns out they jumped into an empty swimming pool. Many legs were broken.

The whole idea that people who wanted a cookbook needed video in the middle of the recipe or that people would “read” a book on a desktop computer because of sound effects in a CD-Rom version always seemed like a stretch to me. Sometime in the middle of the CD-Rom craze, I learned that McGraw-Hill had a big animal encylopedia on which something like 60% of the cost went into the sound. This was for a high-priced professional product. This made no intuitive sense. It wasn’t placing the investment where I thought anybody would find the value.

What seemed more likely to work to me at that time was to just put the book on a diskette (they were still much more common then than CD-Rom drives) to allow one to just read it on their laptop. The writer and enrepreneur Po Bronson might not remember this, but he and I discussed that idea at great length at the time. Meanwhile, I predicted in 1995 and 1996 that CD-Roms were going nowhere, that the “action” for book publishers would be online, and that the first important thing that would happen online would be increased sales of plain old printed books, all of which turned out to be utterly correct.

Now, as Yogi Berra allegedly once said, we have deja vu all over again.

In the later 1990s, the simple ebook delivery I imagined happened through online distribution, not diskettes. The devices of choice were plain old PCs (mostly reading PDFs) and handheld PDAs, reading the Palm Digital format, Microsoft’s new “dot lit” format (remember how revolutionary that was supposed to be when it first came out!), and then Mobipocket which, until Amazon bought them and largely buried them, was going to be the cross-platform standard.

Now that I had what I wanted, I was a happy guy. I started reading ebooks predominantly and I went out on the prediction limb again. I figured that PDA-reading would become widespread, and quickly.

Talk about jumping into an empty pool!

In fact, underscoring my misunderstanding, I wrote in about 2004 or 2005 that PDAs were the key to ebooks. If you carry a PDA, was my thinking, then you shouldn’t need anybody to explain the advantage of ebooks to you. It was transparent; you always had your book with you. And, conversely, I figured that if you did not have a PDA, there was no great advantage to ebooks. What I saw as the big advantage was not having to carry the book as an “extra.”

Still, ebooks just didn’t happen. I couldn’t understand it. A lot of people told me the problem was that ebooks didn’t really do anything that couldn’t be done with plain old print books. They didn’t take advantage of the opportunities afforded by digital books. No video. No audio. No web links. That didn’t seem like the answer to me. I remembered the CD-Rom fiasco.

Then Kindle came along. On the one hand, it proved me wrong because here was a device that had to be carried around (like a book) and didn’t do anything for you except let you read a book. On the other hand, Kindles sold well (particularly considering Amazon was the only place to get one) and, more important, Kindles sparked an explosion of interest in and uptake of ebooks. And that, I thought, proved that “just the book” was enough for many people to have a satisfying ebook experience.

But now it looks like market forces are going to tempt publishers to invest in enhanced ebooks all over again. We are awash in news of new ebook readers — meaning both software that can play on PCs, netbooks, iPhones, or various more dedicated devices and a slew of those more dedicated devices to choose from. So people are going to be reading books on devices that can do a lot more than a Kindle or Sony Reader can do.

Two other things happening at the same time also push for more complex ebooks. One is that the tool sets to deliver them — and even to allow any author working with a bright young person alongside of them to deliver them — are getting more ubiquitous. And the other is that publishers think they see a connection between more complex ebooks and higher-priced ebooks, and that makes them very interested in exploring the subject.

A lot has changed in the past 15 years since the CD-Rom era. I am not in any way suggesting that the CD-Rom disaster of the mid-1990s will be repeated in the enhanced ebook era we are heading to now. But nobody figured out what compelling consumer product could be made from a book with lots of digital space to play with then and we’d be kidding ourselves to think anybody’s figured it out now either. There will be a lot of trial and error work done by the industry in the next couple of years trying to find the book-into-something-better formula that works artistically, functionally, and commercially. The answers are by no means self-evident.

One cautionary tale from the CD-Rom era. One of the first big successes on CD-Rom was issued by Simon & Schuster and based on StarTrek. In retrospect, we can see that StarTrek was the “perfect subject”: the one thing that would work with early-adapting techie geeks even if nothing else would. Unfortunately, S&S read the StarTrek success as an endorsement of the CD-Rom product idea and rapidly expanded their new media division to do more titles. Nothing else came close to matching StarTrek’s success.

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