Chelsea Green

I had occasion during this past week to speak at the global strategic meeting of Harlequin. Often when I am asked to speak, even internally to publishers, I am explicit told “we want you to scare the hell out of them.” Since I think of myself as a pretty unthreatening guy, I’m always a bit disconcerted by the reality that I’m doing that. But, of course, my core message is not very comforting to most people in the legacy publishing business. (And, I hasten to say, Harlequin never made that suggestion, nor, as this post should make clear, is it really relevant in their case.)

The message is scary for most because the essence of what I’m saying is that publishers over the next decade or two will have to change the way they think about how they deliver value. Their core asset base will shift from being the intellectual property they own or develop to the audiences they command. Publishers with vertical content offerings have a big head start to making that adjustment and general trade publishers hardly know what to make of the message at all.

I think my argument is pretty simple. It has two principal components.

I posit that the price of content must go down because of the laws of supply and demand. Even though digital delivery does actually increase “demand” (because people can consume more media if they have the means to do so always at hand), it increases supply much more. You used to need a publisher to spend some money and to commit an organization to get content into “supply”. Now you just need an internet connection. So I see downward pressure on the selling price of content going far into the future. This does not mean that eventually all content will be free, but it does mean that everybody will consume more and more free content and, therefore, be generally less willing to pay money for content to augment what is free.

The second component of my argument is that audiences for content will be (mostly)  aligned around interests. I call that “vertical”. The most successful legacy consumer media, including all of the biggest book publishers, tried to satisfy a wide range of interests, which I call “horizontal”.

I put those two things together and I say that getting from today (selling content) to tomorrow (selling audiences) depends on using today’s asset to build tomorrow’s. This might sound like something close to insanity if you’re Random House or Simon & Schuster or Penguin. It can make a lot of sense to you if you’re F+W Media or Hay House or Chelsea Green or Cool Springs Press. It seemed to make total sense to the people at Harlequin.

To prepare for the Harlequin conversation, I made a list of “most important things to think about” for them going forward. Here it is. If you’re really a vertical publisher, it should be a useful road map. To the extent that makes no sense at all, it indicates that your company is locked into competition for a pool of revenue and sales opportunity that will shrink, slowly for a while, but only for a while.

1. Use content as bait. When you make the leap that the eyeballs you own are the key to future monetization, not the copyrights you own, then you readily see the value of exploiting the content to attract eyeballs. This means many different things in different contexts, and, of course, the content-selling model still provides most of the cash and will for quite a while, but this is a key principle to apply. The free and freemium strategies you use will be different if your objective is to build a loyal community than if  you have the more immediate objective of selling something on the back of the giveaway.

2. Be sensitive to low-overhead competition and be prepared to imitate their new models. We’re heading for the day — actually we’re already in it — when it won’t take a big organization to reach a lot of book readers. (We’ll be transacting half our book purchases online in the next couple of years.) When companies smaller than yours are offering cheaper products with different delivery models — subscription, print-on-demand, whatever — watch them closely and try what they’re doing so you understand it. (Of course, Harlequin was already very much onto this idea. They just launched their own low-price imprint, Carina Press.)

3. Grow! Acquire competitors, or coopt them. Once you’ve defined the audiences you are going after, you have defined the way in which you will seek “scale”. If somebody else is going for the same audience you are, you want first to hope they don’t see it as an audience-acquisition play (and most publishers don’t yet.) While you’re fortunate enough to have competitors who are still focused primarily on monetizing IP, they’ll want to work with you if you have access to an audience that might buy their IP. Then you can use their content as bait to attract eyeballs for your community.

4. Find multiple ways to engage your audience. For community-building, it is not nearly sufficient to deliver product offers online. You have to figure out ways to make your community come to you; you have to figure out ways that members of the community can create value for each other. A key metric for you is how frequently you touch each member of your audience (or, even better, how frequently they touch you). The number of people absolutely guaranteed to open an email you send them will be an important measure of the health of your asset base.

5. Sell everybody else’s ebooks (the recent F+W and Ingram proposition). Almost nobody in your community gives a damn about which books are yours and which are somebody else’s. They want entertainment or information or to solve a problem; if you’re serving them as a community you don’t win by cutting them off from what they want because somebody else published it. A complete (but curated) ebook offering is a first step in the right direction. Ultimately, of course, you want to offer all the print books and all the other “stuff” that is relevant to the community, information-based or just plain products. That’s part of your monetization potential.

6. Build multiple brands with meaning. There are a very small number of companies whose name itself has true consumer meaning as a brand. (In fact, Harlequin is the leading one.) But if you can appeal to a community, you have an oppotunity to build a brand. Brands are shortcuts for consumers; they orient us as to what to expect in products or services, including social cred, quality, and  price. For as long as we have robust print delivery (and I think that might be as little as another five years), we have an opportunity to deliver URLs to people offline. That’s not as “efficient” as delivering them online (where the recipient can immediately click through) but it offers the chance to reach a lot of people who might not be online explorers. (I don’t want to give away Harlequin’s trade secrets here, but I was taken aback to hear how many senior citizens are in their audience; people who might well not be available to be pinged online.) But don’t use a book to push people to promote a generic web site where they’ll arrive and say “why am I here?” Deliver them to something relevant, something that will entice them to come back; a site you can, in good faith, urge the reader of a book to visit with the expectation that it will extend the engagement between you and your reader, to your mutual benefit.

When I deliver this message to the general trade community: publishers, authors, agents, retailers, the reaction is often a blank stare. That’s understandable; getting from a horizontal trade publisher to becoming one that “owns audiences” is a long and winding road. It is a totally rational decision to say, “that’s not the business I’m in; I’ll stick with what I’m doing until I’m the last one standing.” But there were no blank stares from the people at Harlequin. They know they have a large and loyal audience that cares about their brand. Even if the game changes from IP to eyeballs, they can readily see how they can still play.

Bookmark It:

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!

Bookmark It:

The rapid series of developments in the digital book space and my rising profile mean that I seem to be in an interview with a journalist just about every day. As I was yesterday. The focus of yesterday’s conversation was the Baker & Taylor“Blio” platform that I wrote about last week. How widespread did I think its uptake would be?

The interviewer and I covered a lot of ground, including ebook pricing and timing and whether publishers would be able to make enhanced ebooks work. Those are the topics of the moment (and they are all panel topics at Digital Book World.)

At one point we had a robust discussion about ebook pricing. My interviewer asked me about a pundit’s observation that hardcover books were just wildly overpriced. The implication is that publishers should consider themselves damn lucky that people would pay $9.99 for an ebook, which, after all, has far fewer bytes than a movie they can get for $1.99.

That’s an easy one to answer. What’s a “right” price? Well, from the publisher’s perspective, that’s a question with a clear mathematical answer. (The math wouldn’t yield the same answer for an author.) The right price is the one at which the total gross margin — revenues after all costs — is maximized. We all know more will buy if it is cheaper and fewer will buy if it is more expensive, but the “right” price is the one where customers times margin (margin being revenue minus costs) is the highest it can be.

There is no way in the world that a publisher would maximize margin cutting $28 print book prices to $9.99. So the author of this blogpost being quoted to me might be looking at the “right price” from a consumer perspective or a high-level industry observer perspective, but they sure aren’t looking at it from the perspective of the one who sets the price: the publisher.

At the conclusion of the interview, the journalist on the other end of the phone asked me whether, in effect, publishers would be able to save themselves. “Is there a model,” she said, “which assures that a publisher will profit selling their books in the future?”

Now, I must say before you read my answer, this expresses a long view, not an immediate one. But it sure isn’t comforting to people who sell content for a living.

Is there a model for success selling content? I think the answer to that question is “no.” I’ve spent my lifetime in book publishing and so did my Dad; I don’t like coming to this conclusion. But what I think I see is that selling content as a publisher is a business that is going to just get harder and harder until it won’t really be much of a business anymore.

This has nothing to do with piracy or DRM or Amazon’s promotional ebook pricing. It has to do with the most basic of economic laws: supply and demand.

Until the digital age, content was scarce. It wasn’t scarce because people didn’t create it; it was scarce because it required an investment to distribute it. That’s no longer true. Anybody with an Internet connection can make anything they write (or snap or video or sing) available to anybody else with an Internet connection. For just about free. That’s just one reason — among many — why the amount of content choices available to everybody has mushroomed in the past 15 years.

When the supply of something goes up faster than demand, the price of the something drops. Or, put another way, money flows to scarcity. And content is anything but scarce. That, in a nutshell, is the inexorable problem publishers face. And every day it gets worse. More backlist and out of print and public domain and orphan books get digitized and made available. More bloggers blog. More commercial operations put content online to satisfy their own stakeholders. More videos are uploaded to YouTube and more documents are uploaded to Scribd. All of it is processed and made discoverable by Google and other search engines. And the cumulative effect of all this content being created as something other than new publications for sale is cutting into the market for content that is being created with the expectation of sale.

What is the new scarce item that will attract the dollars if IP is so common that it becomes hard to sell? The answer is the attention of people: eyeballs. And the winning trick for publishers will be to use the content they control — which today does have value — as “bait” to attract the attention of people and then to keep that attention and build a business around it.

Note to some publishers who think they’re doing this: it is not the right answer to simply grab email names and web site registrations as a way to offer the same product catalog over and over again by email blasts. That doesn’t create value for a community and, before long, the community will lose interest and move on. You will lower your marketing costs temporarily with that strategy, but you’re still building a business of selling content and you’ll still, ultimately, deal with the problem that something roughly equivalent to much of what you want to sell will be available elsewhere for free.

I’m far enough ahead of the wave with this insight (if, indeed, time proves it to be an insight) that I can’t really point you to any examples yet from established publishers who followed Shatzkin’s formula to success (although I’m working on a couple that might be worthy of mention by a year from now.) So far, all that is clear is that publishers that stick to an audience fare better in the digital world than the ones who don’t. Their marketing costs are lower and their reach to the audience is both more effective and less dependent on intermediaries.

A stark illustration of this hit my radar screen last month.  A major agent told me that he sold a Mind, Body, Spirit author’s book to Random House, which sold 12,000 copies.  He sold the next book by the same author to niche publisher Hay House, which sold 200,000 copies! And Hay House, with over a million email addresses of people all interested in the same type of book, probably spent less on marketing to sell eight times as many.

There is one example that points the way for all of us in this business right under our noses every day. It is Publishers Marketplace, the creation of Michael Cader. He didn’t have book content to use as bait for the publishing community, so he created a free daily newsletter, Publishers Lunch about ten years ago. The formula he used — which was novel then and is now a commonplace — was to find the stories of interest to his community every morning and deliver the links to those stories, along with a little commentary, for free. That created an enormous number of sign-ups very quickly and a corresponding amount of grumbling from the established trade press, which would have a) never wanted to show anybody else’s story rather than their own and b) would have expected to sell any content they generated rather than giving it away as Cader did. After all, selling content was the model! (Sound familiar?)

I don’t think it took a year before Cader established his community, Publishers Marketplace, built from the eyeballs that were attracted by the free content in Lunch. Soon he made the “free Lunch” an abridged version, so the “full Lunch” became one of many benefits of “membership” in the community, which comes at a monthly subscription price for the unaffiliated and at site license prices for big companies. It is important to note that the full Lunch content alone wouldn’t keep and hold a community. Rather it is databases of information, many of them created by the contributions of the audience and additional tools and services (such as a free web page for every member) that keep people signing up and paying each month without dropping out.

Publishers have always focused primarily on the content. Survival in the future will require focusing on the market.

Publishers Marketplace and Hay House (and Harlequin and F+W and Interweave and Chelsea Green and all publishers who are dedicated to serving the same community over and over again) are on the right path, one that is very difficult for general publishers to tread. Taking steps to preserve the current marketplace for content — tinkering with DRM and fighting piracy; grappling with the timing and pricing of the content in various formats; even building out from the book as we’ve known it to take advantage of new ways to deliver information and entertainment — are, at best, holding actions. They don’t attack the fundamental problem that is developing for publishers which is this: if you don’t own the audience, the cost of reaching it for one book at a time will be prohibitive.

In the digital age it will make much more economic sense for the owner of the audience to find the content rather than the way we’ve always done it, which is the other way around.

Bookmark It:

In the 1990s, Mark Bide and I used to chair a program for VISTA Computer Services called “Publishing in the 21st Century.” We’d do a “white paper” every year and run conferences twice a year each in New York and London. The subject was digital change in publishing and the purpose was, simply, to think it through.

The conferences developed a pattern. Mark would open the show with a summary of our research. He’d be followed by a couple of outside speakers and then I’d wrap up with what we took to calling a “walk on water” speech. I got a lot of practice doing big vision stuff.

Part of the pattern was that Mark would start each conference by reiterating that book publishing is not one business, but many. The procedures and business metrics for a publisher of directories bore no resemblance to that of a college textbook publisher; a sci-tech publisher had a different business and, in many ways, a different business model from a trade publisher; and so forth.

General trade publishers are, in my opinion, the most challenged of all by digital change. They have the superficial advantage of having their marketplace “go digital” later than all the others, so there would seem to be an opportunity to learn from the mistakes and the successes of others. But that advantage is illusory because of unique aspects to trade.

Recently, for a new project I’m working on that will become public in the next couple of weeks, I was challenged to enumerate what distinguishes trade publishers’ 21st century problems from everybody else’s. I think all of these things are challenges unique to trade publishing or they have substantially more impact on trade publishers than on any others:

* their channels to get printed books to the customer are consolidating and shrinking which means a loss in margin to intermediaries with more clout, a compressed sales window that leads to more risk-taking with initial placements of inventory and higher returns, and, as volumes shrink and returns increase, actual distribution costs per unit sold will rise as well;

* their principal marketing channels are atrophying, and the new emerging ones are more granular and transient, increasing per-title marketing costs;

* the biggest authors have increased clout for many reasons, increasing title acquisition costs;

* the new technologies both lower barriers to entry for additional competing titles and keep old and even used books alive forever in the marketplace, increasing competition;

* they have unique legacy issues: the backlist rights tangles and undigitized backlists that still sell robustly in print require additional investments now to forestall ultimate sales erosion.  As the overall sales shift to digital some titles on those backlists, depending on rights, might not be able to go (and perversely, could have the copyright licensed for print but effectively orphaned for a digital version);

* they have agents, who have their own challenges (unless they represent one or more of the biggest authors and even that model might be threatened as more digital change evolves) while they add complications for publishers trying to find their way to new models with uncertain costs and revenues.

Trade publishers, much more than their counterparts in school, college, academic, and professional, are bound to the format of “the book”. That is partly because the “value adds” that other publishers can use to justify different (higher) pricing are not natural adjuncts to trade books. Trade publishers can’t boost prices and margins by adding homework helpers as is done for school books, self-testing as is done for college texts, and value-added aggregation, searching, and productivity tools as is done for academic and professional publishing. So the lessons being learned by other publishers just don’t port to trade, any more than the new paradigm for music (give away the content to sell concert tickets) can transfer to books.

Even within trade publishing, there are distinctions that matter. The business of the Big Six general trade houses is quite different than the niche (sometimes called “enthusiast”) businesses run by publishers like F+W Media, Chelsea Green, or Hay House. Niche publishers who have depth of content in verticals can do things that the general trade houses just can’t.

For example, F+W Media has refocused its company around verticals. They used to see magazines and books as the businesses they were in with titles related to crafts and writing; now they see crafts and “writing” as the businesses they’re in with books and magazines in each. That enables them to share marketing costs across many books and magazines and it enables them to market much more effectively to the markets they serve. F+W’s book business is challenged by all the same factors as everybody else’s, but reinforcing their vertical organization creates alternatives, sometimes allowing them to convert essentially consumer audiences to professional audiences so that tricks from other publishing businesses can apply.

Here’s a recent anecdote that, for me, sums up the uniqueness of our challenge.  In a recent conversation with a very sharp and Senior Marketing Person at a major house, I raised a pet question of  mine these days. “What’s the new ’standard treatment’ for a trade book?” Used to be galleys to selected pre-pub review media, a press release with and without review copies to lists of varying sizes and care of curation, size of the catalog page, and then things we can do for all mysteries, all cookbooks, etc. What should it be now?

So SMP says back to me, “there isn’t one.” But there has to be one, I said. Because only 10% of the books are going to get any unique marketing effort, so 90% have to get something standard. What should it be? If PW and The NY Times and the list of review editors at the various papers and the “usual suspects” aren’t the right thing to do anymore, what is? Or do the 90% get nothing?

What that captured for me is that the Achilles heel of trade publishing has always been that publishers have to reach audiences as numerous as the books they publish and they have mostly marketed books one-by-one, book-by-book. That’s what no other branch of publishing would even attempt. Marketing effort per title is the real point of scarcity in this business — more than quality product and more than shelf space. People outside the trade don’t think about that because, frankly, it’s a problem that doesn’t occur anywhere else. But it’s in our industry’s DNA. And we’re going to have to create some unique answers.

Bookmark It: