There’s a certain kudos to being a writer.
Millionaire novelists like J.K. Rowling, John Grisham and Stephen King spring to mind. Or perhaps the literary cool of an Ernest Hemingway, Jay McInerney or Zadie Smith.
And the non-fiction arena is an even bigger market. Self-help bibles, business success stories, health and fitness guides, even cookery books have the power to turn their authors into celebrity figures.
And even if it doesn’t make the New York Times bestseller lists, a book can act as a badge of status that a writer can leverage for speaking engagements, workshops, coaching programmes and a host of other money-spinning activities.
No wonder so many people dream of becoming a writer.
But the traditional publishing world has an uncertain future.
There are the big success stories of course, with reports of millions of copies of certain titles – not least the Harry Potter series – flying off the shelves.
Nevertheless, reports indicate that for years the general public as a whole has been reading less and less. It doesn’t bode well for your business then if demand for your product is steadily falling.
Plus publishing has an idiosyncratic business model. For while the publishers bear the expense of producing and – less frequently these days – promoting their books, any unsold ones can be returned by the retailer without having to pay for them. The publisher then has to find warehouse space to store them, or pay for them to be pulped. In other words, they face all the risk for the success or otherwise of their products. Can you imagine any other business working that way?
So it’s no wonder publishers are keen to focus on what they think will be surefire successes – the celebrity writers with marketable names, and established literary big guns with a track record.
Which isn’t to say new writers can’t break in. Arguably those that are good enough, and keep submitting, will get noticed by agents and publishers, who are full of talented people as keen to sign the next literary superstar as the writer is to be one.
But it’s not always easy for the aspiring debutant. And the rewards for all that work are often pitiful.
Meanwhile a mass of mediocre books continue to hit the display stands largely on the strength of the author’s name blazoned across the top.
But an alternative future is emerging ... which I’ll come to in Part II.
July 30, 2009
July 14, 2009
Homage to Catalonia
My wife and I were recently honoured with an invite to a night out with a party of locals.
Now, depending on where you are in the world this may not seem like anything remarkable.
When we lived in the States – whose citizens I have found to be probably the most hospitable of any place I have been – we were invited into people’s homes on a regular basis, sometimes after we’d only just met them.
However the Catalans, as they themselves observe, tend to be more reserved. It takes a while to make it past the polite smiles on the street and into their houses (a comment many people make about we English).
This though is one of the advantages of sending your children to the local schools in your adopted country – you start to integrate more into the community. And so it has been with us.
On this occasion we were asked out to dinner by the two ladies who split the role of classroom monitor for our daughter, who has severe food allergies. Because of their close association with our little girl we’ve got to know them fairly well. And so, with their husbands in tow, they took us to their favourite restaurant.
First thing to note – the Spanish eat late. This is particularly the case in Madrid, where it’s almost time for breakfast once dinner is done. But even here in provincial Catalunya our hosts didn’t pick us up until 9:30 pm, and it was a half hour drive to our destination.
It was the kind of place you’d never find on your own, a hidden gem frequented by those in the know. It was in a village I’d not seen before, although I must have driven by it several times, a traditional Catalan masia with bare stone walls and exposed wooden beams, serving traditional Catalan food.
The car park was packed, the tables in the plaza outside were packed, the series of small dining rooms inside were packed. But fortunately one of the husbands was friends with the owner.
Second thing to note – by and large, vegetarians are not well catered for in Spain.
The menu was what you’d describe as hale and hearty. Rustic fare. Meaty, in all senses.
On the table as we arrived were baskets of toasted bread, which you rub with fresh tomatoes and garlic cloves, drizzle with olive oil and eat with slices of the local dried sausage.
The house wine came out of an unlabelled green bottle with a cork half-stuffed in the top, probably produced a couple of kilometres up the road. Hardly Château Lafite, but eminently drinkable. And a fraction of what you’d pay for similar quality in the US or Britain.
Starters were local specialities too: plates of sliced anchovies, strips of Iberian ham, snails.
The main course selection included rabbit kebabs, guinea fowl, shoulder of kid goat, spareribs, veal steaks. When the plates arrived they were loaded with slabs of tender meat. Vegetables though – if you exclude the fries – were nowhere to be seen.
One of the women, Neus, had pigs’ trotters, a local delicacy to be found in every self-respecting butcher’s. My wife and I have always fought shy of it, but when she offered us a taste decided to give it a try. After all, when in Rome ... The gelatine-based consistency and flavour actually wasn’t bad, but a couple of mouthfuls would be enough.
Aside from the food we were also privileged with an insider’s view of the Catalans themselves.
Catalunya is not so much a region within Spain as a nation within a nation. It has its own language, own flag, own customs, own festivals. And they have a renowned antipathy towards ‘Spain’ as a whole and Madrid in particular, not least because of General Franco’s aggression during the Civil War and repression of Catalan culture during his four-decade dictatorship, something they have energetically sought to redress since his death.
More revealing though were the insights of Neus’ husband, who described the tensions that exist within Catalunya, between Barcelona – where he was born and raised – and the regions.
As George Orwell describes in “Homage to Catalonia,” Barcelona was a stronghold of the Republican forces during the Civil War, and one of the last places to fall to Franco’s Nationalists. Subsequently Barcelona – not least through its eponymous football team – became a centre of opposition to the General’s regime.
And with Franco’s death and the return of democracy Barcelona emerged as the hub of Catalanism, the seat of the region’s autonomous government, the Generalitat de Catalunya.
Given such precedence, and the local population’s near universal and fervent support for FC Barcelona, I’d have thought the city and all it represents would be viewed with pride by the Catalans. Not so.
Barcelona has long been the commercial powerhouse of Spain. As a result, our companion explained, Barcelonans have had far greater exposure to the wider world, and are more cosmopolitan for it.
By contrast the area where we live, with its traditional agricultural and fishing communities, was practically cut off from the outside world until as little as 50 or 60 years ago. An adventure was travelling to the local market town.
And that contrast between commercial cosmopolitanism and rural isolation remains in the mindsets today. For while Barcelonans look down on the provincials as hicks, those in the provinces regard Barcelonans as rich city types that know nothing of their lives and are not to be trusted.
Which is why, after 23 years of living in our little patch of Catalunya, he is still referred to as “Neus’ husband,” rather than by his own name.
Now, depending on where you are in the world this may not seem like anything remarkable.
When we lived in the States – whose citizens I have found to be probably the most hospitable of any place I have been – we were invited into people’s homes on a regular basis, sometimes after we’d only just met them.
However the Catalans, as they themselves observe, tend to be more reserved. It takes a while to make it past the polite smiles on the street and into their houses (a comment many people make about we English).
This though is one of the advantages of sending your children to the local schools in your adopted country – you start to integrate more into the community. And so it has been with us.
On this occasion we were asked out to dinner by the two ladies who split the role of classroom monitor for our daughter, who has severe food allergies. Because of their close association with our little girl we’ve got to know them fairly well. And so, with their husbands in tow, they took us to their favourite restaurant.
First thing to note – the Spanish eat late. This is particularly the case in Madrid, where it’s almost time for breakfast once dinner is done. But even here in provincial Catalunya our hosts didn’t pick us up until 9:30 pm, and it was a half hour drive to our destination.
It was the kind of place you’d never find on your own, a hidden gem frequented by those in the know. It was in a village I’d not seen before, although I must have driven by it several times, a traditional Catalan masia with bare stone walls and exposed wooden beams, serving traditional Catalan food.
The car park was packed, the tables in the plaza outside were packed, the series of small dining rooms inside were packed. But fortunately one of the husbands was friends with the owner.
Second thing to note – by and large, vegetarians are not well catered for in Spain.
The menu was what you’d describe as hale and hearty. Rustic fare. Meaty, in all senses.
On the table as we arrived were baskets of toasted bread, which you rub with fresh tomatoes and garlic cloves, drizzle with olive oil and eat with slices of the local dried sausage.
The house wine came out of an unlabelled green bottle with a cork half-stuffed in the top, probably produced a couple of kilometres up the road. Hardly Château Lafite, but eminently drinkable. And a fraction of what you’d pay for similar quality in the US or Britain.
Starters were local specialities too: plates of sliced anchovies, strips of Iberian ham, snails.
The main course selection included rabbit kebabs, guinea fowl, shoulder of kid goat, spareribs, veal steaks. When the plates arrived they were loaded with slabs of tender meat. Vegetables though – if you exclude the fries – were nowhere to be seen.
One of the women, Neus, had pigs’ trotters, a local delicacy to be found in every self-respecting butcher’s. My wife and I have always fought shy of it, but when she offered us a taste decided to give it a try. After all, when in Rome ... The gelatine-based consistency and flavour actually wasn’t bad, but a couple of mouthfuls would be enough.
Aside from the food we were also privileged with an insider’s view of the Catalans themselves.
Catalunya is not so much a region within Spain as a nation within a nation. It has its own language, own flag, own customs, own festivals. And they have a renowned antipathy towards ‘Spain’ as a whole and Madrid in particular, not least because of General Franco’s aggression during the Civil War and repression of Catalan culture during his four-decade dictatorship, something they have energetically sought to redress since his death.
More revealing though were the insights of Neus’ husband, who described the tensions that exist within Catalunya, between Barcelona – where he was born and raised – and the regions.
As George Orwell describes in “Homage to Catalonia,” Barcelona was a stronghold of the Republican forces during the Civil War, and one of the last places to fall to Franco’s Nationalists. Subsequently Barcelona – not least through its eponymous football team – became a centre of opposition to the General’s regime.
And with Franco’s death and the return of democracy Barcelona emerged as the hub of Catalanism, the seat of the region’s autonomous government, the Generalitat de Catalunya.
Given such precedence, and the local population’s near universal and fervent support for FC Barcelona, I’d have thought the city and all it represents would be viewed with pride by the Catalans. Not so.
Barcelona has long been the commercial powerhouse of Spain. As a result, our companion explained, Barcelonans have had far greater exposure to the wider world, and are more cosmopolitan for it.
By contrast the area where we live, with its traditional agricultural and fishing communities, was practically cut off from the outside world until as little as 50 or 60 years ago. An adventure was travelling to the local market town.
And that contrast between commercial cosmopolitanism and rural isolation remains in the mindsets today. For while Barcelonans look down on the provincials as hicks, those in the provinces regard Barcelonans as rich city types that know nothing of their lives and are not to be trusted.
Which is why, after 23 years of living in our little patch of Catalunya, he is still referred to as “Neus’ husband,” rather than by his own name.
July 2, 2009
Book Publishing: The Long and Winding Road
Ernest Hemingway, Tom Wolfe, Bill Bryson ... the list of successful authors who started their writing careers in journalism is a long and illustrious one.
Like so many other journalists, I too have been dreaming of that publishing deal that would set me on the road to literary fortune. In fact, my journalistic career was more happenstance than design, a by-product of my early book writing efforts, rather than the other way around.
The impulse to write has been with me since my exercise book-filled scribbles at infants’ school. But it wasn’t until a backpacking trip around Spain with my wife in 1997 that I took the all-important step, and committed to become a writer. And that means consistently putting pen to paper.
I remember it now. Sitting in front of our tiny tent under the pine trees and stars, enveloped in the warmth of a Valencian spring evening, I opened my newly-bought notepad and with a cheap ballpoint began to recount our adventures.
In the 12 years since I have written something practically every day.
In amongst the hundreds of magazine and newsletter articles for my day job there has been that original backpacker’s tale, several novels, a host of short stories, TV programme pitches, and at the moment a work-in-progress screenplay.
The investment of a lot of time, a lot of work and a lot of hope. It’s been a long, and at times frustrating, journey. Indeed, given my lack of publishing fame and fortune you’d probably be justified in thinking it’s about time I gave up.
But although the dream of being a full-time author has seemed a million miles away at times, I have never lost sight of it. So I persevere.
Still, rightly or wrongly – and I’m sure there were glaring deficiencies in my work that merited the stack of rejections – I haven’t had much joy thus far with the traditional publishing world.
Which is why for “Should I Stay Or Should I Go,” my guide to the pros and cons of expat living, I decided to go down the internet route by writing an e-book, and setting up a website to support and sell it.
The internet is a fantastic evolution in the spread of the written word. For it has provided the opportunity for anyone with a message to reach out to a global audience, even if at times it can be difficult to get that message heard.
But the thing is, you never know when someone is listening. And that’s when one of those serendipitous events occurred to me.
Somehow Bea Stanford, founder of global network community Inside Twente (http://www.twenteinside.com/), stumbled on my website and signed up for my Moving Abroad-opedia newsletter. Apparently she liked what I wrote and asked if I’d share my blog posts on her site.
Through Bea and Inside Twente my book then reached the attention of Jo Parfitt, the author of numerous bibles on expatriate living, including “Expat Entrepreneur” and “A Career In Your Suitcase” (http://www.joparfitt.com/).
And I have Jo to thank for referring me to her publisher Lean Marketing Press, who in turn got in touch expressing interest in my book. As a result, we’re now working together to produce a print version of Should I Stay Or Should I Go, which we hope to bring out in the autumn.
It’s been a strange, circuitous route to publication – certainly not how I imagined it would occur. Nevertheless, it is an immensely exciting prospect, not least because I believe – and many other writers have similarly argued – that the model adopted by companies such as Lean Marketing is the future of publishing. But I’ll go into that another time.
Like so many other journalists, I too have been dreaming of that publishing deal that would set me on the road to literary fortune. In fact, my journalistic career was more happenstance than design, a by-product of my early book writing efforts, rather than the other way around.
The impulse to write has been with me since my exercise book-filled scribbles at infants’ school. But it wasn’t until a backpacking trip around Spain with my wife in 1997 that I took the all-important step, and committed to become a writer. And that means consistently putting pen to paper.
I remember it now. Sitting in front of our tiny tent under the pine trees and stars, enveloped in the warmth of a Valencian spring evening, I opened my newly-bought notepad and with a cheap ballpoint began to recount our adventures.
In the 12 years since I have written something practically every day.
In amongst the hundreds of magazine and newsletter articles for my day job there has been that original backpacker’s tale, several novels, a host of short stories, TV programme pitches, and at the moment a work-in-progress screenplay.
The investment of a lot of time, a lot of work and a lot of hope. It’s been a long, and at times frustrating, journey. Indeed, given my lack of publishing fame and fortune you’d probably be justified in thinking it’s about time I gave up.
But although the dream of being a full-time author has seemed a million miles away at times, I have never lost sight of it. So I persevere.
Still, rightly or wrongly – and I’m sure there were glaring deficiencies in my work that merited the stack of rejections – I haven’t had much joy thus far with the traditional publishing world.
Which is why for “Should I Stay Or Should I Go,” my guide to the pros and cons of expat living, I decided to go down the internet route by writing an e-book, and setting up a website to support and sell it.
The internet is a fantastic evolution in the spread of the written word. For it has provided the opportunity for anyone with a message to reach out to a global audience, even if at times it can be difficult to get that message heard.
But the thing is, you never know when someone is listening. And that’s when one of those serendipitous events occurred to me.
Somehow Bea Stanford, founder of global network community Inside Twente (http://www.twenteinside.com/), stumbled on my website and signed up for my Moving Abroad-opedia newsletter. Apparently she liked what I wrote and asked if I’d share my blog posts on her site.
Through Bea and Inside Twente my book then reached the attention of Jo Parfitt, the author of numerous bibles on expatriate living, including “Expat Entrepreneur” and “A Career In Your Suitcase” (http://www.joparfitt.com/).
And I have Jo to thank for referring me to her publisher Lean Marketing Press, who in turn got in touch expressing interest in my book. As a result, we’re now working together to produce a print version of Should I Stay Or Should I Go, which we hope to bring out in the autumn.
It’s been a strange, circuitous route to publication – certainly not how I imagined it would occur. Nevertheless, it is an immensely exciting prospect, not least because I believe – and many other writers have similarly argued – that the model adopted by companies such as Lean Marketing is the future of publishing. But I’ll go into that another time.
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