Extracts - Authors Look to the Bottom Line
by Barry Turner
A long time ago, when I and the world were young my dears, it was said of books that they sold themselves. Asked to define marketing, a gentleman publisher (they were all gentlemen) was liable to think first of the man at the end of his mews who sold flowers off a barrow. Books were not like other goods. They appeared, as if by some strange literary osmosis, on the shelves of a high street store where each volume was clearly marked with a price set by the publisher. A discount, typically 15 to 20 per cent, was the predetermined profit for the retailer. Known as the Net Book Agreement, this cosy arrangement was jealously protected by its proponents who argued that to do away with the NBA would result in dearer books, fewer titles on offer and the demise of the small independent bookshop. The counter argument relied on the appeal of the free market. Abolishing retail price maintenance on books, as it had been on every other consumer item, would, it was claimed, lead to a more competitive environment. Publishers and booksellers would be forced off their butts to do some real selling instead of leaning back to wait for the reviewers and word of mouth recommendations to bring in the orders. More titles, cheaper books and a wider choice of retailer were predicted.
When, at last, in 1995, the NBA went the way of other price fixing deals, the proof of the pudding was much to the taste of the abolitionists. The book trade had a rush of energy that brought it into the brave new world of aggressive retailing. Loss leaders and three for the price of two promotions became commonplace along with attractive window displays and customer friendly stores that made book browsing a popular pastime. The number of titles published each year continued to increase (at the last count it was 125,390) and total sales enjoyed a year on year rise to £1.98 billion in 2002. There is, of course, a downside. The elevation of marketing to senior director level in all the mainline publishers has raised the stakes on identifying titles that can justify heavyweight promotion and the ever-increasing share of turnover demanded by retailers to pay for it. This emphasis on bestsellers is said to mitigate against risk taking. The tendency is to push money at those authors who have a strong track record and thus are already familiar names to the public or at writers who are promotable by virtue of their fame in sport, politics, show business or some other area where the book of the life promises a sensationalist read. It doesn’t always work, but so far no one has come up with a more certain way of making money from general publishing.
Those who lose out are the mid-list authors, who used to justify their publication by sales to the libraries (with a welcome additional income from PLR) as much as by a modest take-up in the shops. Now, library budgets are tighter and so too is shelf space. The squeeze has put paid to some routine authors whose demise might be deemed a merciful release but there is a worry that new writers who need time to develop might now have fewer opportunities to get started. Philip Pullman and Ian Rankin have been mentioned as writers who did not find bestseller success until well into their careers.
But this is to assume that the big publishers have lost all capacity to identify promising newcomers, which is simply not true. Editors are only too happy to discover a bestseller writer in the making – that is how they measure their own career prospects. Agents too are heavily into the business of nurturing the literary lion cubs. For writers who are trying to make their names, the frustration comes in finding that competition is tough, the more so because publishers and agents need a lot of persuading that the books they take on really do have a chance breaking the sales barrier. A consolation is in knowing that publishing is led but not dominated by the conglomerates. One of the encouraging features of the contemporary book scene is the success of publishers such as Profile, Fourth Estate, Mainstream and Serpent's Tail in discovering and advancing talent. Every established author can recall the hard times with a collection of rejection slips; some even boast enough of them to paper a wall. No one ever claimed that making a living from writing is an easy option. What has to be kept in mind is that, despite all the moans and groans, the breakthrough is no harder to achieve now than it was before we were all caught up in the marketing revolution.
The other big worry of authors about the way books are sold is that before long publishers will ask for changes in the system of paying royalties. As a hangover from the NBA, most books still have a recommended retail price printed on their jackets. This is the benchmark for the royalty share, traditionally 10 per cent on the first 2,500 copies sold, 12.5 per cent on the next 2,500 and 15 per cent thereafter. Paperbacks typically come with a royalty tag of 7.5 per cent. So far, so relatively simple. Booksellers are free to cut prices if they see this as a strategy for increasing sales while authors’ income is protected by being tied to the RRP. The catch, for the bookseller, is in not being able to increase prices on some items to compensate for the loss leaders. That is how supermarkets maximise turnover and the book chains would dearly like to follow their example.
Publishers would almost certainly agree to remove printed prices from covers, thus allowing booksellers, who presumably know their market, to decide their own terms of trade, on one important condition, that authors would drop their claim to royalties in return for getting a percentage of net receipts. The proposal, still at a kite flying stage, has been greeted by authors, their agents and other representatives with a howl of anger that would do credit to the sound effects for Harry Potter. But unless the principle is accepted that any change in marketing is bound to work against the writer, it is hard to see what the fuss is all about.
There are those who worry that putting up the price of some books would make them unsaleable which is another way of saying that the bookseller is incapable of knowing his own best interest – an unlikely proposition. Others believe that the figures for net receipts would be massaged by less reputable publishers to the detriment of authors. Possibly so, but surely no one is suggesting that royalty statements are immune to light-fingered manipulation? Percentage deals already apply to book clubs and to overseas sales. There is no reason to think that thereby authors are treated unfairly any more than there is reason to suppose that sums earned from percentages and royalties could not be equated by simple mathematics.
The objective of booksellers is to sell more books which has to be to the advantage of everyone, including authors. If taking prices off books helps towards that end, then we should applaud the move. However, there is another factor worth more than passing consideration. Publishing is all about risk – more so than most other businesses – but it is a risk that is shared unevenly. Books go into the shops on a sale or return basis. If they hang about on the shelves for more than a few weeks, back they go to the publishers’ warehouses. If booksellers want more commercial freedom it is surely time for them to take on more responsibility. Firm sales, starting with front-list books, would bring them closer in line to the supermarkets they seek to emulate. Such a change in the terms of trade would be more radical than taking prices off books but the smaller concession may accelerate the momentum for change. Moreover, if authors were to receive a percentage of net receipts, instead of a royalty on a fixed price, it would be easier for publishers to negotiate firm deals on longer print runs.
The book trade has a long way to go before it reaches its optimum size but growth needs energy and energy needs incentive. Opinion formers among authors seem unable to recognise this. This is a pity because they should be leading the way, not following sulkily behind the van.