In 1976, when I quit my job as an associate editor for the Wm. C. Brown Publishing Company, I figured I knew enough to start my own publishing house. Hey, I was young. For the next three years, Avery Publishing Group operated out of the basement of my house and my partner’s garage. We began producing college textbooks and quickly morphed into a niche house specializing in non-traditional markets—from pregnancy to childbirth to military history. To the great relief of my very understanding wife, we eventually moved out of the basement into the front offices of a local printer. While Avery continued to expand its titles into other niche marketplaces, some of our books started to find their way into trade bookstores—a marketplace I had avoided like the plague. Luckily, we found the very laid-back Charlie Winton and his company, Publishers Group West. They were happy to take over our trade sales, and we were happy to let them. By 1990, Avery was in its own building and finally turning a profit. Not a big profit, but enough to satisfy the bank and allow us to borrow more money when we needed it. By that year, I had figured out that I really did not know as much about publishing as I had originally thought. We were certainly good, but not good enough to be considered great.

About that time, I met a gentleman named Nathan Keats, the publisher of Keats Publishing. Nathan had been in publishing since the early ‘40s. He had put together one of the best alternative health publishing companies in the country. He was a crusty maverick, said what was on his mind, was highly innovative, and loved life. I was a wise guy with a sense of humor and I had been following his publishing house as I developed Avery’s own alternative health list. We hit it off the first time we met at the old ABA (now called the BEA). He told me something that has always stuck with me. He said that if you can stay in publishing long enough, you will eventually come out with a bestseller. When he told me that, I asked him to define “long enough.” He answered, “You’ll know how long when it happens. You just have to keep at it.”

In 1991, Avery published Juicing for Life. The juicing craze was just beginning and it became our first major hit. We sold over 700,000 copies in its first six months of publication. From that point until we sold the company in 1999, we couldn’t do anything wrong. It was an amazing ride; one bestseller begat another. Nathan couldn’t have been more pleased by our success—and I couldn’t have had a better mentor. Nathan was someone I could call to ask questions, bounce ideas off of, and learn the secrets of being a publisher. Unfortunately, he passed away a few years before I sold Avery. I did, however, get the opportunity to tell him how much his friendship had meant to me.

Two months after selling Avery, I started Square One Publishers. Having owned my own publishing firm for over twenty-three years, I found myself back at square one—just in case anyone was wondering where the company name came from. It’s now been eight years since we started, and while we have developed a solid backlist and have a number of very strong titles, we are still looking for our first major bestseller. While I no longer like to make predictions about my titles, I think this year we will have our first two bestsellers: Does Your Baby Have Autism?, thanks to the unique breakthrough offered by its author-researchers, and Taking Woodstock, owing to it having become Ang Lee’s next movie project. I am also hoping that eight years is, in fact, “long enough”—yet I also hear Nathan telling me to “never count your chickens before they sell.” We will do our best to make this year, Square One’s year; and if it isn’t, all I have to do is try and stay in business for one more year. Somewhere in that thought—planted in my brain by Nathan—is the hope and passion that continues to drive me and most other publishers forward.

Thank you, Nathan.   

While Jules Verne was pretty good at predicting the future, I usually dismiss modern-day prognosticators. They don’t seem to get it right when it comes to politics, stocks, or bestsellers. On the other hand, since this is my blog—and I’m not going to write about politics, stocks, or bestsellers—what the hell. We live in an age of technological wonders. It seems that breakthroughs in the field of digital electronics occur every selling season like clockwork. I have now discovered that the television I currently have hooked up to cable at my home will shortly need another electronic gizmo to work. All of this has got me thinking about where the book publishing business will be in about twenty years. I use the period of twenty years because that usually connotes the space between generations.

As a baby boomer, I grew up reading books printed on paper—not unlike the last hundreds of generations before me. However, I now find myself living in the “digital” age—an age in which I keep missing all those seminars on “Publishing in the Digital Age.” I know it’s coming, but I don’t think it’s just around the corner. Let me tell you why.

When I was growing up, I used to listen to AM stations—that is, until FM started playing rock ’n roll (in stereo, no less!). From there, it was on to 8-track players (and some really interesting wardrobe choices) and then cassette tapes. This was followed by CDs, which were followed by  MP3 players, iPods and downloads—and this was all happening just in my car. And you wonder why the music business is in such a mess.

As my generation grew up, music was such an integral part of our lives that we were always looking for that perfect sound. If the equipment we were listening to became obsolete in a few years—or until the car’s lease was up—that was perfectly okay; we’d accept the change and move on. As a generation, we were trained to accept change in order to keep up with the latest musical-producing device.

Yet as much as our musical equipment changed, books remained an unchanged product, allowing only for the development of “books-on-tape.” My generation and then Generation X simply did not have any other choices to select from. Today, however, things have changed. We have e-books, downloads, and handheld reading devices; none of which seem to excite my generation and the X-ers. Of course, paying $299 to $399 for a device that needs to be constantly recharged, is easily broken, lost, or stolen also doesn’t seem like a big plus. The fact is that the generations not raised on GameBoy is not likely to give up their paper books now or perhaps even later—unless the technology begins to encompass a whole lot more than books and drops its price to below $99.

On the other hand, the younger generation out there who were raised on electronic games may absolutely embrace these advancements. However, since they still need to graduate high school and get jobs (good luck to them.), we will not see any dramatic acceptance of these products for at least the next ten years. I therefore predict that our use of traditional paperbound books will continue to remain steady for as long as the Boomers and the Gen X-ers continue to buy books.

What will change dramatically over the next few years, in my opinion, is how that “paper” book will be produced and delivered to its readers. This will change the publishing industry as we know it and impact greatly on retailers of all printed matter. Am I starting to sound like Nostradamus yet? With the development of digital printing a few years back, the printing industry went through a great deal of change and upheaval trying to keep up with the new emerging technologies. Today, we have POD (print-on-demand) presses that can produce one book at a time. This has produced an enormous amount of new books to become available (if not actually sold) online. And as this technology is refined, the machines producing the books will become smaller and more sophisticated. What we will have is a single machine capable of printing and collating the interior text in black and white; printing a color cover; and binding the interior to the cover to produce one commercial-looking, single bound paperback. And that future is already here in the form of the Espresso Book Machine, a complete one-stop printer capable of storing thousands of titles in its memory bank—and that will eventually change everything.

While the bookstore still has its share of bestsellers and perennial backlist titles on its shelves, it will also have several machines capable of printing almost every book ever published in any language requested. Should any of the bookstores’ shelved stock sell out, the manager simply prints out what’s ever needed. Libraries will have the machines available for its patrons--as will supermarkets, health food stores, drug stores, toy shops, or any other retailers that cater to any niche market(s). Publishers themselves will have these machines to produce review copies whenever needed.

The economic model for publishers should improve as well. As a book is electronically purchased, a percentage will be paid directly into a publisher’s and/or author’s account. While this amount may be smaller than the traditional revenue made, the savings for the publishers will more than offset the smaller profit.  No longer will publishers have to spend money maintaining stocked inventory, warehousing, or shipping. Nor will they have to contend with returns, damaged books, or overstocks. The system of distribution will become completely electronic. No book will ever be out of stock. For the first time, smaller independent publishers will be able to compete with mega-publishers on an even playing fair.

And of course, as with the coming of the automobile and its impact on the horse carriage trade, there will be changes in the industry that rely on the old book publishing model. The need for distributors and wholesalers will be greatly reduced, as will the need for traditional book printers. Online booksellers will take a beating—unless Amazon chooses to buy Borders (but we’ll leave that for a future blog). And as these industries may devolve or evolve, new ones will emerge to meet the new economic models to come.

The fact is we are definitely living in a time of great change. However, we still have a long way to go to get to that future. And, of course, I could always be wrong. But hey, that’s what happens when you make predictions.  

Posted by: Rudy Shur

The first time I had met Len Riggio—well, maybe not so much met him as heard him—was in the early 1970s. I was the New York City field rep for the William C. Brown Publishing Company, a college textbook publisher. Len was the owner of the off-campus NYU bookstore. One of my tasks was to visit college bookstores and learn which titles had been adopted for various courses. To do this, I needed to schmooze store managers, and ask nicely if I could look through the textbooks on the store shelves. The books were usually arranged by department and course number so they were relatively easy to identify. As I walked into this particular bookstore, I noticed that there were no customers. I also noticed there were no salespeople. I was in downtown Manhattan in the middle of the afternoon, and the bookstore was devoid of people.

“Hello! Anyone here?” I called out.  No response. I proceeded to the back of the store. “Hello! Is anybody home? . . .” Nothing. I walked back to the middle of the store thinking this just wasn’t right. As I was about to repeat my hello, I heard some muffled noises coming from behind a large closed door to my right. I began thinking, Great, either I’ve just walked into a robbery in process or I’m on Candid Camera (yesterday’s version of Punked). Hoping for a possible shot on TV, I slowly opened the door . . . and was greeted with a barrage of expletives that floated up from a stairwell. Obviously something was going on in the basement below. As I called down to ask if the store was open, a man holding a big box of books appeared and began making his way up the stairs. “Look kid” (I was actually a kid then), he said, “we just had a flood in the basement, and I’m a little busy.” I told him I was with a publisher and asked if I could help. He handed over the box of books, pointed to a space against the wall, and told me to put it there. Then he turned immediately and headed back downstairs.

I took off my jacket, and waited at the top of the stairs for the guy to reappear. As I waited, all I could hear was the angry voice of some man barking out orders amidst a sea of colorful curses. As I was handed the second box, I asked the guy, “Who is that down there?” “That’s the owner,” he replied, “and I don’t think he’s too happy.” I stayed there for several more trips, and as I waited, I could hear the guy who was lugging the boxes repeatedly say to the owner, “Lenny. Relax!” Needless to say, Lenny did not relax.

Some time later, I learned that that bookstore had closed, and I figured I was never going to have the chance to meet Lenny. Shortly after, the original Barnes & Noble bookstore declared bankruptcy and all of its assets were up for auction. A Publishers Weekly article spelled out who had bought what: The name and titles of the Barnes & Noble publishing house had been purchased by Harper & Row, and the bookstore itself was bought by a group that was headed by a Mr. Leonard Riggio, the former owner of—you guessed it—the off-campus NYU bookstore. And the rest is history.

So what’s the point? After facing difficulties and setbacks in his own bookshop, Len Riggio took a bankrupt business and turned it into this country’s largest bookstore chain. The flood in his basement didn’t stop him, nor did the eventual closing of that bookstore. He had the vision, the energy, the experience, and the guts to do it again—and this time he did it right. So what does this have to do with independents in the book business? Plenty.

Over the years, I’ve heard indie publishers and bookstore owners actually admit that they love books, but hate marketing them. And they wonder why large corporate giants continue to beat their brains in. If independents intend to be successful in this business, they not only have to love books, they have to learn to embrace every aspect of marketing. If one strategy doesn’t work, try another. Learn from both your successes and failures. If you want to have a viable operation, look at what other successful entrepreneurs do--learn from them. Energy that is directed towards the right vision can make it happen, just like it happened for Len.

As a book publisher, I can’t tell you how many of my authors have had signings at bookstores that turned out to be disasters--embarrassments for them, and a loss of potential sales for the bookstores. Yes, putting up a poster telling customers about an upcoming book signing is a good start, but for most bookstores, it’s also the only marketing they will do. Typically, bookstore owners are thinking “Hey, shouldn’t marketing be the job of the publisher and author?” Perhaps it is, but shouldn’t driving more customers into the store be an owner’s top priority? Do you think it’s a coincidence that the most successful indie bookstores also have the biggest turnouts for a majority of their book signings? And not just for big-name authors! Even their lesser-known authors draw sizeable crowds. Again, with proper marketing, they make it happen--all it takes is energy and vision.

Now I don’t claim to be the smartest business person in the book business, but as an independent publisher, I have always tried to learn from those who failed (avoiding the pitfalls that brought them down) and from those who have succeeded (borrowing their good ideas). As an indie in the book industry, if you intend to stay in business during today’s down-turned economy, you should always remember that no matter how flooded your basement gets, you must never allow it to drown your dreams.

Posted by: Rudy Shur

For independent publishers, it is the best of times and it is the worst of times. And yes, I know I took that line from Dickens—but it is absolutely true. Today’s breakthrough technologies have allowed more people to print books than ever before in the history of mankind. Years ago, the cost of editing, typesetting, printing, and promoting a book made publishing prohibitive for most. Now, we are able to digitally typeset and print a single copy for peanuts. This remarkable technology has ignited the entrepreneurial spirit in thousands of people here and around the world. Now, we can all be publishers! Every would-be author can see his or her name on books; children can give their grandparents a copy of their latest handy work in a bound edition; and no books need ever go out of print again. Could it be the dawn of a new golden age of independent publishing? I don’t think so.

About sixty years ago, an individual in England would have to work years to become a bonafide publisher. They would first work as a publisher’s apprentice, and then move up the ranks. After years of service, they would hopefully be granted a certificate letting the world know that they have proven themselves worthy of being called a “Publisher.” Publishing was considered a trade, but that was then. Today, it seems all you have to do is get on the right website, download your file, and within a few days your book will arrive at your front door. And yes—according to the website copywriters, you have just become a publisher. The truth—and what the website will not tell you--is that your book has been printed, which is, in fact, not the same as being published. And while it may look, feel, and even smell like a book, it is not a published work.

For the indie publisher today, publishing is a hard-nosed, fight-for-every-sale, better-know-what-you-are-doing business. Financially distressed distributors can bring you down; vendors think nothing of holding onto your money for months at a time; and, even when you think you are ahead of the game, there are those unexpected returns to put a dent in your cash flow. And just like that smell of napalm in the morning, I love it. What I don’t love, however, are all those people who tell anyone with a computer that printing a book makes them a publisher. For every one of those folks who buy into it, there is another person willing to teach them how to create a bestseller, how to get free PR, how to become rich—off of their book. The truth is the only people becoming rich are the people printing the books and selling the seminars.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have absolutely no problem with lots more people becoming publishers. Independent publishers have always been the driving force behind innovations, discovery of new voices, and quality over profits. However, if you are going to be a publisher, you not only need to know how to run a business, you also need the drive and instincts to run it. Take courses on the subject. PMA, the Independent Book Publishers Association, offers great workshops on the subject. Talk to people who are in the business. Read books about the subject. Send some time walking the halls of the BEA. Do all you can to prepare to be brutalized, and then when you think you are ready, ask yourself one question. Do I want to run a business or be a writer? And if you truly want to be a publisher, then go for it.

I answered that question years ago, and have never looked back.

Back to you.
Rudy Shur
Publisher
Square One Publishers

Posted by: Rudy Shur

The first year in any business is a sink or swim time. In publishing, there are two first years: the planning year, when you find your distributor, raise your capital, set up your web site, and buy your titles; and the printing year, measured from the day that your first book arrives crated at the warehouse. I am in my planning year now. My print year starts in the Winter season, 2009.  

For my first print year, I was looking for books that fulfilled both my creative and my capitalistic vision. The books needed to be good, but they also needed to be marketable. I wanted to fall in love.

And I did.  

My first book is Brian Evenson’s LAST DAYS. Currently the MFA director at Brown, Brian is my perfect kind of writer—a writer who walks the line between the literary world and the genre world, a writer who knows a good story and who knows how to write it well. He has everything: craft, structure, character-driven plots. He’s an NEA recipient, as well as an O. Henry prize winner. He translates from French, he’s won the Horror Guild Award, and his last book, The Open Curtain, was picked as one of the ten best books of the year by Time Out New York. All that, plus he’s a great guy to have across the table at a meal. You can read more about him here: http://www.brianevenson.com.

I met Brian at BEA, when I was an editor at Dark Horse. He agreed to write an Aliens novel for Dark Horse, which was a bit of a triumph, I thought. LAST DAYS is a detective novel set in a secret society of self mutilators. The detective was kidnapped by members of the society, and is forced to solve a murder mystery for them. It’s a down the rabbit hole kind of story, where nothing is as it seems.

My second book is Jeff VanderMeer’s third novel set in the Ambergris world, FINCH. I met Jeff through Brian, and, though Jeff and I have never talked face to face, we carry on a lively email correspondence. Jeff pitched me a Predators story when I was an editor at Dark Horse. The resultant Predators novel is also a bit of a triumph.

Jeff is one of the most prolific writers I’ve met. He has ten (yes, ten!) books coming out next year. He’s widely considered to be one of America’s best fantasy writers, having won the World Fantasy Award, been translated into 17 languages, been featured on the NYT’s blog and Wired.com. He’s kind and intelligent, and also a gonzo marketer, with ideas coming out of his ears. Read more about him (and see some pretty cool art) at www.jeffvandermeer.com.

FINCH is a noir tale, set in a world where the gray caps, mysterious underground inhabitants, have taken over the city. Martial law is in place. Against a backdrop of oppression and rebellion, the hero, John Finch, must solve an impossible double murder while trying to make contact with the rebels. His girlfriend, Sintra, might or not be the leader of the resistance. Something is about to happen.  

Third up? Will Elliott’s PILO FAMILY CIRCUS. Talk about the genre / literary crossover… The book is about a troupe of demonic clowns working in a between-worlds circus. The currency that the circus runs on is bits of white crystal—or souls. The writing is smart, dry, and humorous. The book made me both look over my shoulder in fear, and laugh out loud. The word Elliott creates crackles with tension. He’s a fantastic writer, and to think that this is only his first book…

I bought the North American English rights to Will’s book from Quercus, his U.K. publisher. The book was originally printed in Australia, where it won the ABC prize. The novel also won the Aurealis Award, the Shadows Award, and the Ditmar Award. Elliott got a nod from the Sydney Herald as the best young novelist for 2007.  

And about the wovel? Last week, I found my wovelist. He’s young, he’s smart, he’s ready for a break out from the limited edition publishers. He’s Kealan Patrick Burke, and if you haven’t heard of him, you will.

His wovel, called The LIVING, is set in a world torn apart by civil war—the undead humans versus the living humans. The undead are not your typical zombies. They were created by genetic mutation, and they are the underclass of this new world. Our heroine, Madison, might be the last hope for peace in this world. The wovel follows Madison’s attempted escape from a city ravaged from the civil war.

In preparation for writing this wovel, Kealan sent me not a plot synopsis but a conflict synopsis. With the help of the readers, who will vote on the plot branch points as they come up, Madison might escape from the city alive. Or she might not… The readers get to decide. Read more about Kealan at his web site www.kealanpatrickburke.com.

I can’t announce my fourth print title yet, because the contract isn’t signed…

Know these authors? Have thoughts about the lineup? Comment here, or write me at Victoria@underlandpress.com.

And thanks for reading the blog. It’s been fun to write for ForeWord. Keep in touch by visiting www.underlandpress.com, and signing up for our newsletter.

Best of luck, and happy reading…

Victoria

Posted by: Victoria Blake

My hunt for a web writer continues. I’ve been knocking on doors, sending out emails, calling friends, pitching hard. I’ve gotten one writer lined up, but I’m looking for one more.

Here’s the idea:

I want to publish a Wovel, or web novel. The concept is to allow readers to participate in the formation of the plot arc, while leaving the writing, characterization, setting, description, and problem solving up to the author.  

Here’s how the Wovel works: The author posts an installment every week, say every Monday. Every post ends with a plot branch point. For example: the heroine, chased by zombies, reaches her car. The car a) starts, b) does not start. The readers get to decide. Every installment is between 1,000 and 3,000 words: long enough to get somewhere, but short enough to read Monday morning in your cubicle at work.

The post would go up on Monday, voting would be open until Wednesday, the writer would work on a draft until Friday, I would edit it, turn it around for final correx on Saturday, to repost it Sunday night.

Sound like a magazine or newspaper schedule?

It is. And that’s one of it’s strong points.

We wouldn’t be asking the readers to read fifteen or twenty pages of text. We’d be asking them to read short, and then vote. It could work out magically.

To my knowledge, this structure for writing on the web has never been tried before. There have been other variations, and each has had its own failings. Remember Steven King's much-publicized e-book The Plant? He kept it up for six chapters, before bowing out, saying that too many readers had jumped ship. The Wovel form, by contrast, gives the readers a stake in the book, providing them a reason to come back for more.

I’m incredibly excited by this idea. As with everything on the web, though, it takes a certain slantwise look to understand how it would work, and what the practical benefit would be.

For the author, the benefit would be a pure and simple readership build. The principle is that the more people read, the more people want to buy it. Interest equals monetization. It’s the same principle behind publishing for pittance in quarterlies.  

The author would come out of the Wovel term with a workable manuscript for possible reprint in the traditional book form. Some authors and agents say that publishers won’t want a manuscript that’s been online already. It seems to me, however, that the growing trend of print publishing blogs has well paved the way for a second print life for a Wovel. In fact, I would think that the print life would equal the online life, the two would build off each other. Heard of how well the Radiohead album In Rainbows is doing, despite being offered free online? What about the book Julie and Julia? It sold more than 150,000 in trade and cloth, and it was based off a blog.

For the publisher (Underland), the benefits would be to drive traffic to my site, to increase interest in my books, and to build my stable of authors. It’s a no-brainer for me, if the author and I can make it good, and if the readers keep coming back for more.

There’s a certain amount of experimentation that goes with this online territory. I don’t yet know what will happen with the Wovel, and there’s a possibility it will fall flat on its head. What do you think? Good idea? Bad idea? Scary idea? Interested in hearing more? I’m still working on my web site. I have a holding page up there now with an email capture. Sign up, and I’ll send you news as it comes. Underland Press is online at www.underlandpress.com. Or email me directly. I’m at victoria@underlandpress.com.

Next week is my last week as a guest blogger for ForeWord. I’m planning on announcing my first-year title list, plus announcing who my Wovel writer will be…

Posted by: Victoria Blake

A few months ago, I invited a group of my smartest web developer friends to sit at my big table, bought a case of Terminal Gravity, a pack of Oreos, and said “Go.”

They went.

Among the ideas for the web page: an RSS calendar that ticked through the worst things that happened on the day in question; an “eye” that hacked into the computer’s on-screen camera, re-routed the feed, and reflected the user back to himself; a room that the user could wander inside, picking up knives, opening doors, finding links, etc.

Impressive? Yes.
Overkill? Possibly.
Exciting? Absolutely.

My intent with Underland has always been to try to use the web not only to market and sell the books that Underland publishes, but to push the boundary of what is currently being done with text on the web. It occurred to me early on that print publishing is where music was in 1996: pre-Napster, ready for something big.

I don’t think that big thing is going to be the new digital readers. I’m in the camp that thinks paper and ink are pretty close to the best technology we need for books. But text has gone digital, and we haven’t yet figured out what to do with it. The issue might not be a readability issue. Finding and keeping online readers might require a new way, or at least a new style of writing.

Consider: A journalist writes an A1 story differently than a newspaper feature, differently than a long-form magazine feature, differently than a front-of-book news item. Each of those forms has its own requirements and limitations and opportunities. Indeed, professional journalists are extremely good at writing for all the various content platforms: newspapers, magazines, radio, TV. They have courses for this in their degree programs. They specialize.

Fiction writers? Fiction writers are lagging a bit behind. The majority of fictional prose I read online is originally written for print. Or it might have a second life in print. Or it wanted to be print, before it was put up on the web.

When I hear industry people talking about web publishing, I hear them talking about intellectual property rights and technology issues. I have never heard anybody talk about writing style and form issues. I recently had a writer send me a sample as a "audition" for an Underland Press web novel. The sentences were long and complicated, the paragraphs were long and complicated, and I couldn't find a story outside of the synopsis.

I don’t know if I’m right about this, but it seems that in order for prose to be successful online the sentences would have to be shorter, the story more obvious (ie less subtle), and the paragraphs would have to move more quickly. Chapters would have to be shorter, too. Maybe even short enough to read in the cubical at work, with the back turned to the hallway and the finger on the minimize button…

You know. Like blogs.

I’m going to keep thinking about this problem. I’m going to talk to the writers I know. I’m going to talk to the lawyers. I’m going to talk to my web guys. I might not be the one to crack the problem, but I’m in the generation of publishers who will.  

As before, and as always, I welcome your comments. Unlike print journalism, the blog gives us a way to talk back. I love that, though it might force me to develop a thicker skin.

Posted by: Victoria Blake

Say “genre fiction” and you bring to mind books about aliens, about vampires, about mutilation, about kidnapping, about incest, and about straight up good old fashioned murder. You bring up images of mass market trim sizes and covers with foil and embossing and a dark road with maybe the shadow of a tree and noose in the background. You also bring up the idea of books that are more plot driven than character driven, books where the language and syntax sometimes seems ignored, books that rely on cheap thrills more than craft for effect. Say “genre,” and the nice lady talking to you at the dinner party will turn away.

With this in mind, I’m going to describe a book, and I’d like you to tell me if it fits in “genre.” Here goes:

After a catastrophic nuclear event, America has become a vast, deadly field of starvation, crime, and man-against-man contests for survival. Through this wasteland, a man and his young son walk along the left over roads of America, confronting their basic fears and searching through the rubble of civilization for hope.

Know the book? It’s one of the best genre books to be published in the last twenty, if not fifty years. It has murder, suspense. It has mutilation and cannibalism. It sold incredibly well—about a million copies so far according to Bookscan. It’s a page turner: Everybody I know read it in forty-eight hours, and passed it on to everybody they knew. Its author won a well-deserved Pulitzer, as well as a spot on Oprah’s list.

Know the book? It’s The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, and I swear it’s as genre as they come.

Here’s my argument. It’s the argument at the center of what I do and what I’m interested in, and it’s the creative push behind Underland Press. Here’s the argument: A genre is a body of work defined by similar characteristics. A category is a marketing niche. The two things should not be confused.  

When I say genre fiction, I mean fiction that takes on weird and scary subjects. I mean books about aliens, apocalypse, vampires, mutilation, kidnapping, incest, and murder. Weird is my genre. Horror, fantasy, dark fantasy, those are my categories, my BISAC codes, my cover designs. When I say genre, I do not mean fiction that ignores craft in favor of the cheap, easy thrill. The word “genre” does not imply a license to ignore character entirely, nor does it allow a writer to write badly. When I say genre, I mean books that entertain me. Books that I can pass with confidence to my friends and family members. Books that keep me coming back. And yes, sometimes books that make the nice lady at the dinner party turn away.
    
Argue with me. This is slippery terrain, and it’s something I think about a lot. How do you define it? What do you mean?

Posted by: Victoria Blake