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Great news for all of my Bahamians, Canadians, and other fans who don't live in the US. You can now buy the Kindle version of Triptych.Two Saturdays ago, I worked the Capital BookFest. For the uninitiated, the Capital BookFest is held on the grounds of the Boulevard at the Capital Centre in Largo, Maryland, treating attendees to readings, panel discussions, children's storytelling, conversations, and talks by a wide variety of authors from different genres. The Borders Superstore was the center of the action. Inside the store, best-selling authors presented on the Mainstage. The Literary Café featured authors in a more intimate setting. Other writers were outside in the Write On! Tent. However, the most egalitarian part of the event was the book-signing table in the front of the store, where every author who presented – whether or not they were or had been on the New York Times bestseller list – had the opportunity to put their John or Jane Hancock on their books for fans.
Well, you know eventually, egos would poison the friendly atmosphere. I found myself being looked down on from the patrician nose of a Mainstage author from a major house. Just as I was wondering if this was a racial thing… it happened again! This time, a black author whom I’d met on a previous occasion pointedly ignored me when I spoke to her and walked right past me to her chair. The unspoken question seemed to be how did I and my other midlist compatriots deign to share their rarified air at the signing table?
Now you know I’m sensitive. And I’m prone to checking myself. I’m always asking, is it me, or am I overreacting? However, that day, I had my touchstone with me – my cousin, who’s possibly the most perceptive person I know. She confirmed my suspicion that there was some serious midlist author hateration going on. Naturally, it stung. Especially coming from the sistah author. On an otherwise beautiful day, the episode left a bad taste in my mouth.
But I have to laugh at the counterproductivity of midlist author hateration. Here’s why. In my Examiner.com column, I recently interviewed Les Pockell. He’s the Vice President and Associate Publisher at Hachette Book Group USA. He pretty much confirmed what I suspect we all know – that the publishing industry is in flux and that we all could conceivably be lost in transition. I liken the midlist author hateration to the high society mavens in luxury cabins looking down on the hoi polloi in steerage on the Titanic. We all know how that story ends, don’t we?
That probably wasn’t something that both authors in question were thinking about from their lofty perches at the Capital BookFest. But they should have been...
When I signed my book deal, an editor asked me to identify possible markets for my fiction. Dutifully, I included my ancestral home – The Bahamas – on the list. Immediately, the editor, though sweetly, told me that The Bahamas was not a viable book market.
Reflexively, I was offended. Though I am an American, I rep my Bahamian heritage hard, mainly because it’s important to me. I also wave the aqua, black, and gold of the Bahamian flag, because I know how sensitive Bahamians get about other Bahamians who leave, find success abroad, and then seem to forget where they come from. Some quite vocally single out Rick Fox and Sidney Poitier. I guess Poitier winning the Presidential Medal of Freedom this week doesn’t seem to help his cause any. Anyway, I swore I was going to be different. No Bahamians would be singling me out for such treatment.
In the near-decade since my first book came out, I was fanatical about getting bookstores in The Bahamas, where I grew up, to carry my work – just as they do other authors with absolutely no connection to the country. For all of my efforts, though, I so far only had one taker – the religious bookstore in Nassau for some strange reason…but even then, they’d only sell my books online.
I aggressively set out to change the status quo by making Nassau the first stop for a Triptych mini-tour, scheduling two dates – August 1 and August 6 – at Chapter One, the bookstore at the College of The Bahamas, where I’d once taught journalism. Triptych, as you know, is set in The Bahamas. A portion of the net proceeds from the book goes to the Cancer Society of the Bahamas. The August 1 signing was on the calendar for the festivities for my high school class’ twenty-fifth reunion. My sister, Christina “Chrissie Love” Thompson, a radio journalist and talk show host, arranged radio, television, and print press coverage.
Then someone pulled the pin. A week before the heavily promoted August 1 signing, the powers that be decided to schedule an inventory count for that very day. The glib “Erryting cool, man” attitude about gumming up the works was even more shocking, given the planning that has to take place to accommodate a venue that’s at least a three-hour plane ride and two intrusive security checks away. Everyone who could make an executive decision to salvage the signing had rolled out for vacation, leaving a beleaguered store manager, who could only wring her hands and apologize. My sister called in favors so that the signing could be held at an alternate venue, but only the two older titles – twelve copies of each – were available for sale, apparently preordered before the call for inventory. No Triptych. The second signing on August 6 went no better. All in all, the mini-tour embodied the lyrics from “Small Talk,” a song by the rock group Scritti Politti: “If a thing’s worth doing, it’s worth doing badly.”
I know; we are all authors here. We’ve all shown up at our scheduled events to find that our books were not in store. For the obvious reason, though, this particular episode cuts more deeply. It’s even worse that when Bahamians tell me that they’ve had to buy my books during daytrips to Miami because they couldn’t find them in Nassau. It stings like a bitch when the dogs from your own kennel are indifferent to you.
So, was that editor I mentioned before right? Maybe not for Janet Dailey, Dan Brown, and the other authors whose books are on Bahamian shelves. But for me, sadly, she was. I am awake – rudely so. Given that rude awakening, I am forced to bite the bullet and focus my time and energies elsewhere.
Last week, Amazon decided to drop the price of its Kindle e-reader to $299. Apparently, they’ve been making so much money on the thing that they were able to pass the savings on to the customer.
In writing for Examiner.com (shameless plug!), I’ve interviewed my share of publishing insiders who herald e-readers in general and Kindle in particular as saviors of an industry floundering because of an identity crisis and a bad economy. More than one insider has compared e-readers and other technological advancements to Gutenberg’s printing press, which, as you know, sounded the death knell to monks hunched over parchment in a scriptorium.
Though Sony makes an e-reader, Kindle has gotten the most ink since its first generation hit in 2007. After all, Oprah called Kindle one of her favorite things; we all know what a ringing endorsement from Oprah can do to pretty much anything. In February of this year, Amazon released Kindle 2 with a sleeker design, longer battery life, and more storage than its predecessor. Then in May, Amazon unleashed Kindle DX, or SuperKindle, on us.
Despite the audacity of Ope, though, no one I know has rushed out to buy either Kindle. At a price of $359 for Kindle and $489 for its supersized sibling, no one in my circle of friends is eager to part with that kind of cheddar. That may all change, though, with the $60 drop in the price of Kindle. My friend and author Karyn Langhorne, with two books available as Kindle editions, has plans that involve Kindle, her birthday, and her husband’s credit card.
I, on the other hand, am a chronic late adopter. I only recently got an iPod. And I’m not alone. The folks at Electronic Village are adopting a wait-and-see approach and soliciting input from others before they commit. The reason? Their love of going to the library and checking out books and DVDs for free.
Even though my latest novel, Triptych, is available as a Kindle edition, I’ll still hold off on investing in the reader itself for now… even with the price dip. Basically, I want to see if Kindle can bear the weight of a publishing industry’s expectations on its 1/3” thin, wireless, 10.2 oz shoulders. Like Public Enemy, I don’t believe the hype just yet.
