Second…well. My last post got considerably more attention that I ever anticipated, so that was quite a surprise. And I have some follow-up questions about it, but those I think will wait until another time. At the moment I just want to address one thing quickly, and another in a bit more detail.

First, as always, when you put things out on the internet and people see it, they’re going to react, just like when you write a book and put it out there people are going to react. And really, part of being a writer is learning to accept that and let the negative stuff roll off your back, or learn from it. It really doesn’t bother me anymore, and the comment I want to discuss didn’t bother me personally, I just find it’s indicative of what the whole point of my post the other day was.

I discovered, quite by accident, that apparently there are some people who feel that Moira and myself, and any other writer who shares our opinions, are simply kissing ass. I find this extremely sad, I have to admit. Is this what the world has come to, that when people see a wrong and speak up about it they’re immediately assumed to have some sort of ulterior motive?

Have we really reached a point where “Writers hate readers” has become the default position, so any writer who claims to actually like readers and want to see them treated well is automatically suspected of just being a big old liar, who probably spends their private, secret hours lurking in bookstores and tripping innocent readers as they pass by, just for fun? Or who runs around various reader blogs and sites leaving anonymous comments along the lines of “You’re all just thieves why don’t you go fuck yourselves you selfish bastards?” Seriously. Am I the only one who finds it really sad that we live in a world where a writer who says “I love readers, and want to please them, and want to see them treated like human beings instead of dogs,” must be an ass kisser, because the person making the accusation apparently can honestly not imagine any other reason why a writer might feel that way and express that feeling?

The thing is, I’ve been writing for about eight years now. I’ve been seriously writing–with an eye toward publication–for about five, and I’ve been publishing for almost five. Now, math is not my strong suit at all, but that’s about 6% of my entire life that I’ve spent as a professional writer. I’ve been a reader since I was four, which means I’ve been a reader for about 95% of my life (I think).

Which brings me to the other topic. As I followed links back to my post and other people having discussions about this topic, I found a sizable minority of readers who seem to honestly believe that writers hate libraries. I even found one who said an author she knows (she actually said “a new author,” which I find very telling) informed her that libraries who loan ebooks are thieves who violate the law, and that if she had her way every library would be made illegal because they all steal profits from writers.

Personally? I think if you show me a writer who doesn’t love libraries, I’ll show you a writer who really doesn’t care about literacy or reading or the craft of writing, but is merely interested in writing-as-get-rich-quick-scheme and in playing Author: The RPG.

Because a writer is supposed to care about reading. And about reading being something for all people. You guys already know my feelings on a future where literacy is only accessible to the wealthy. That’s not just a future where everyone has to pay to publish, it’s a world without libraries.

We didn’t have a lot of money when I was a kid, and I was a voracious reader. I read anything and everything I could get my hands on. And where did I manage to get my hands on books? At the library. We went every two weeks to return a stack of books and check out a new one. I read so many books the library gave me a special dispensation to go over the limit, because at that time children weren’t permitted to take out more than, I think, five at a time.

My fifth birthday present was a library card. I’d been getting books from the library already, of course, but my mom had to check them out for me because you had to be five to have your own library card. So bright and early on the morning I turned five, my mom took me to the library so I could get my Very Own Library Card. I’m sure I got other gifts that year, but that library card is the one I remember; it was one of the best presents I ever got.

Every year the library had a summer reading program, where you read books, filled out a little report on them, and handed them in to get stickers and prizes. Every year my little sticker row was full by mid-July.

There is no way in hell my parents could have afforded to buy me enough books to feed my habit. The library was all I had.

I think it’s pretty safe to say that I wouldn’t be a writer today if not for the library, for all libraries (because when we’d exhausted our local we’d visit some of the other libraries in the system). I would never have had access to all the wonderful books I read as a kid and a preteen and a teenager if not for the library.

And I want other kids to have that. I want them to be able to escape into books the way I did. I want them to grow up knowing that just because you don’t like one book doesn’t mean there aren’t thousands of others out there just waiting for you. I want that because I care about people reading. I want people to keep reading. I want kids to grow up reading and to love reading.

Because I love reading. I love words. I love it all. The process of writing is a sensory one, a sensual one, a journey of discovery every time. Finding new ways to play with words, to make them fit together, to use them so that when a sentence is done it says exactly what I mean it to say…that’s exciting. It’s always exciting. It’s always fun. I believe firmly, and I always have, that if you can read, and understand what you read, you can do pretty much anything; reading is the basis of intellect.

So it shocks me to find a writer–or someone who calls him- or herself a writer–who believes that literacy and books should only be accessible to those who can pay for it. There’s no sense there of the beauty and wonder of words and how they can change and touch people’s lives. This is someone who sees words not as tools for expression and the building blocks of our entire society, but as clicks in a cash register. I have a hard time believing that person truly loves writing, which makes it hard for me to believe there’s any real passion in their writing, which makes it hard, frankly, to believe they’re any damn good at it.

Libraries and piracy are totally different things. There is no similarity there. The fact that libraries buy their books–and usually buy them for more than cover price, sometimes considerably more–isn’t the issue. The issue is respect. Pirates hurt me; libraries make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

So there I go, I guess, kissing ass again.

So here’s what happened. Wednesday, the New York Times ran an article about the Kindle and how many Kindle owners are now buying more books than they used to. The end of the article contained the following paragraphs:

Ms. Englin has linked her Kindle to the Amazon account of some nearby friends, allowing all of them to read books like “The Lost Symbol” at the same time — while paying for them only once.

“I read much more, I tend to read faster for some reason, and I read a greater variety of things,” said Ms. Englin, adding that this is nearly the same as lending a physical book to friends. “We haven’t really looked closely at Amazon’s terms of service. But I do suspect we are breaking the rules.”

Now. I read the original NYT article because it was linked to in Publisher’s marketplace, in the daily emails I get from them. I saw that last paragraph and, I admit, had a twinge. A moment of “Hey, that doesn’t seem quite right.” But then almost immediately after I thought two things:

1. That this was clearly just a couple of friends sharing books
2. That this is in essence no different from, say, a group of friends with low incomes or little disposable cash, who pool their money and buy books together to share. I did this a few times as a teen; mostly for hardcovers, but sometimes to get three books instead of one or whatever.

And that was basically it. I closed the article and went about my day.

Too bad some other authors didn’t do the same. I’m not going to name any names here. You can find them if you really want. But a few other authors also saw that article, either through PM like I did or because they get the Times or whatever. Those authors went on Twitter and began what I can only describe as a witch hunt, a name-and-shame campaign where they not only scolded Ms. Englin and called her a thief, but actually listed her Twitter identity in their tweets–her Twitter identity, which appears to be her professional identity, as her Twitter seems to be used almost exclusively for business (she’s in marketing or consulting or something like that).

No, I’m not kidding. These people actually felt perfectly justified in naming and publicly scolding this woman, and in encouraging others to retweet their rants and join in berating her as well, in public, in front of her friends, family, clients, and potential clients.

There are so many problems with this I don’t even know where to begin. The first one, but in my opinion not the biggest one, is that what Ms. Englin is doing is in fact allowed by the Kindle Terms of Service. She’s not committing piracy. To infer piracy from sharing a few books with friends is a breathtaking leap in logic.

The second one is even if she was committing piracy, even if she was committing a crime, the idea that it’s somehow okay to start calling her names in a public place, and encouraging others to do the same, is wrong. So wrong. Disgustingly wrong. I was literally made ill when I saw this. I used to follow one of the authors who participated in this lynching, and I say “used to” because, sadly, I unfollowed her due to this. I’m shocked that anyone would think this is okay. This woman wasn’t convicted of raping children or of breaking into the Louvre and destroying the Mona Lisa. She shared some books with her friends. She now reads MORE books than she used to.

Even more upsetting is that when it was pointed out to some of these Upholders Of The Law authors, they had the nerve to issue half-assed apologies. (Some are here in Ms. Englin’s blog post about the incident.) One or two of them even tried to lay the blame at the feet of the original writer of the NYT article, claiming it was his fault because the wording of the article was misleading or because he included the quote about how Ms. Englin had a sneaking suspicion they were bending the rules. Excuse me? NO. Your hideous behavior is your fault. I don’t give a fuck what the NYT writer made it sound like. YOU chose to go on Twitter and start shouting this woman’s name, branding her a thief. YOU chose to encourage other people to do the same. The NYT writer didn’t do that and he’s not to blame. YOU ARE.

Let me ask you a question. If your child was beaten up, and the child who did the beating tried to claim it was little Joe’s fault, because little Joe said your kid said something mean about the kid who did the beating, would you then say, “Oh, of course,” and go after little Joe? Or would you rightly call bullshit, because it doesn’t fucking matter what little Joe said, that shithead who beat up your kid was the one who made the decision to beat up your kid and followed through on it? Exactly. All of your “the article was misleading and so we’re victims too” crap is exactly that–crap. You’re not a victim here, you’re a bully, and you’ve behaved abominably, and I am horrified by it.

But even worse is how this incident has called to light something that’s been bothering me for some time, and that is what seems to be some sort of war between writers and readers.

I don’t understand how it happened, or why. But it seems like I see this sort of thing more and more lately; readers demanding things, and authors responding as though readers are supposed to care about the minutiae of their day and never, ever buy used books or check out books from the library or whatever because they’re supposed to keep first and foremost in their minds the Writer’s Need To Make A Living. Yes, we want to make money from this; I certainly do. But vilifying readers who share books or buy used isn’t the way to go about it. It’s not really their problem, and I’m tired of hearing about it.

I personally have shared ebooks. I’ve bought ebooks for people. I give away my ebooks fairly regularly, for any number of reasons but often just because it’s fun. I’m totally excited about Barnes & Noble’s upcoming Nook, which will allow ebook sharing; finally!! It’s about time! I can’t wait to see what changes this will bring and think it’s awful that we haven’t found a way to do this before. I can’t wait for it to come out and for readers who prefer ebooks to have that function available, and as I said above, I was pretty pleased to see that there is a way for readers to share books on Kindle. I think lending or sharing books is a good thing for all of us, and I think most writers agree, and most readers do too.

But why is it that it seems everywhere I look these days there are writers and readers arguing? Why does it seem that although in theory we both want the same things, it also seems that neither of us can speak without the other getting angry? Why are there writers out there who feel justified in yelling at reviewers or readers for bad reviews, or publicly berating readers, or screaming about how when you buy books used they don’t make any money, or whatever? Some of the bad behavior by authors, directed at readers, that I’ve seen over the last few years has been enough to almost make me cry. But on the same token, why are there readers out there getting angry with authors for things about which we have absolutely no control, or accusing us of hating them or looking down on them or thinking they’re evil thieves?

Granted, that latter accusation is certainly more understandable, when we have incidents like what happened Wednesday. But it seems to go so much further than that, and I don’t understand why. Only a few authors participated in the public lynching, nowhere near all of us. But it feels–it can feel–as though we’re all being tarred with the same brush, much as I guess many readers feel tarred with the same brush simply for expressing an opinion or sharing a book or whatever.

Yes, I think the vast majority of authors should shut the fuck up about how they earn their money. Explaining exactly how piracy effects us is one thing, because I do believe there are people out there who genuinely don’t know. And because piracy effects our ability to deliver books to readers, I would hope it’s an issue readers would be concerned with. And you know what? They are! I have never seen a genuine. publicly enthusiastic reader actually defend piracy. What I have seen are readers condemning it, over and over again. And it upsets me when I see those same readers being accused or yelled at or whatever. It upsets me to hear that those same readers feel they are being looked at askance because they buy ebooks.

But at the same time, it upsets me when authors are looked at as greedy or bad because, for example, we only sell North American rights to our books rather than World. Here’s the thing; my publishers didn’t offer for world rights. And even if they had, and even if I’d agreed to it, that is absolutely no guarantee that they would have used those rights. As things stand now, UK and Australian readers will be getting the Downside books two days after they release here, because Harper UK wants to get those books out so UK/Aus readers don’t buy the US editions from Amazon or whatever. Had I sold world rights to Del Rey? I absolutely love Del Rey but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they’d decided to hold on to those rights until they see how the book performs here. Why not? If UK or Aussie readers bought it from Amazon, the US company would be making the money. (Let’s not even get into the fact that Random House UK and Random House US are not the same company with the same catalogues and release calenders [they're simply two separate houses under one umbrella], and do not answer to each other in terms of production schedules, and how the foreign branches of all the big houses are not the same, so how that would even work.) The fact is, UK/Aus readers are getting the Downside books precisely because Harper Voyager bought those rights separately, and having bought them now have incentive to use them.

Now, I totally understand the frustrations of readers in other countries who want books but can’t get them (I lived in England for three and a half years, remember?) I totally understand the frustrations of readers who want ebooks to release the same day as print. I don’t understand why that doesn’t happen. It frustrates me too. So why can’t we work together on it? Why are writers the enemy, or readers the enemy, when we all want the same thing–good books, released in a timely fashion, in a convenient format?

For the record, here is a list of things authors have NO control over. Absolutely none. There is no point getting angry or upset with us over these issues, or telling us we should be doing something about them, because we have zero say in them:

Release dates
Formats (i.e. Kindle, paperback, etc. This may change when it comes to hardcover but I don’t know; what I do know is nobody has ever consulted me about format and had I offered an opinion they wouldn’t have cared)
What countries our books are released in
Pricing of either print or ebook editions
where our books are sold
DRM

I understand that some of these are hot button issues for readers. You know what? It bugs me too. I hate that ebooks cost more and don’t understand why at all. I hate that ebook readers have to wait and think it’s silly. I hate that DRM means you can’t use your book on more than one device you own. I hate that I have to wait for someone to buy or choose to exploit foreign rights before I can see editions of my book in French or German or whatever.

But again, I can’t do anything about it. To be perfectly honest, in those situations I have less power than readers do. They can write letters to publishing companies in their countries asking for those publishers to acquire certain books. They can write letter to publishers complaining about delayed releases or ebook prices or formats not available or just about anything else. I can’t.

At the same time, I understand that being made to feel like thieves, or being deprived, is a big deal for readers. I understand that when you feel like you’re being kicked around the last thing you need is some author whining about not getting paid for used books. Quite frankly, it’s not your problem, and you shouldn’t be expected to give a shit about it. Why the hell should you? It’s the height of arrogance to expect you to somehow put your financial worries above mine. I too get tired of seeing writers bitch about this, especially when–sorry, the gorge just rose in my throat–they use it as fucking justification for their own decision to terrorize a reader online (and I assure you, “terrorized” is probably a mild word for what Ms. Englin must have been feeling at one point). When your apology for your hideous behavior includes anything like, “But you have to understand, people steal from us and so that’s why we jumped to conclusions,” you need a class in how to properly apologize and probably some therapy too.

I just find it upsetting, all of it. When I see discussions like this one at Dear Author, where it seems everyone is speaking at cross-purposes, it upsets me. It seems to me we had a perfect opportunity, in the Case of the Harassment of An Innocent Reader, to come together as one, readers and writers, and maybe find some new common ground. To reach a place where we could all agree; to act as one. We have power together, writers and readers. We can perhaps accomplish some things together we couldn’t as lone entities. We can be a community. But the comments seemed to quickly degenerate into an Us vs. Them, and it’s heartbreaking, and I find myself wondering what if anything can be done about it. I don’t want to be afraid of readers, or of expressing an opinion. Especially not when I am always, always, a reader first and on the side of readers first. Not when I go out of my way to make my blog, especially, a place where anyone and everyone can feel welcome and wanted, regardless of their politics or religion or color or anything else. But neither do I want to be vilified simply for trying to entertain people or having my own concerns.

When did we all start to feel so entitled? When did we start to feel that instead of being people who loved books and reading that we were separate entities, and that it was our right to condemn the other and order them around?

We need to work together. Yes, without readers I–and other writers like me–would be out of a job. But without writers I–and other readers like me–wouldn’t have anything to read.

And that would be the saddest thing of all.

1. “The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance 2″ has been released, containing stories by myself, Jeanne Stein, Jaye Wells, Caitlin Kittredge, Tiffany Trent, and Ann Aguirre. My story, titled “Trust Me,” is–I think–kind of a fun little yarn about Jack the Ripper, and is officially the Last Erotic Romance story I wrote (for now). So while I did tone it down a bit for the antho, expect lots of sexxoring.

Shorts are difficult for me, in general; I have a hard time keeping myself from expanding and expanding and introducing subplots. But this was a story that really didn’t leave a lot of room for a novel, and the idea had appealed to me for some time (as with all mystery buffs and goulish people, I am fascinated by the Ripper), so when I had the opportunity to submit it for the antho I jumped at it. So rush on out and get it; my story is probably the weakest of the bunch, given the other names involved, but I think it’s kind of a sweet little tale nonetheless.

2. Kari Stewart, my agent-mate and author of A DEVIL IN THE DETAILS, coming next summer from Roc, has written a great little series on writing series novels on her blog. You have to scroll down a few entires, but it’s well worth it.

3. Charlaine Harris did an interview at Voice America’s “Mystery Matters” show on Friday, and guess who she mentioned as one of her favorite secondary characters ever, right around the fifty-four minute mark? Terrible, my big bad greaser from UNHOLY GHOSTS. Check it out!

Now. To the point of the post. (Yes, I seem to be on a bit of a self-publishing kick. I promise I have not forgotten the Critique series. I’m just busy as heck these days and going through some other things I won’t bore you with.)

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Here’s the thing. I am not against self-publishing. Absolutely, honestly, 100% not. I think it can be very useful. I think that if you’re a writer who focuses on a specific niche area of nonfiction, for example, self-publishing can be fantastic for you. So this is not a rant against self-publishing per se.

What it *is* a rant against–or rather, a cautionary post about–is the idea so many self-published or vanity-published authors seem to put forth that this is the Wave of the Future, and that said future will be so much brighter without those nasty old philistines at major houses churning out crap week after week.

Um. First of all, yes, as a writer with series at two NY houses and one UK house, I’d rather not be told my work is obviously crap because it’s being published by people who actually have the insensitivity to art to think they can make money from it (and in return have paid me for it.)

But this isn’t about me (except where it really is, which I’ll get to in a minute). This is about lots and lots of other writers, who’ve worked very hard and deserve to earn money for their work. I might add, this is also about book piracy, which a lot of those who engage in seem to feel is their way of Bringing Down the Man and Smashing the State and Standing Up For The Little Guy.

Because, sure. It will be a much, much better word when publishing is only an option to those who can afford it. Don’t you agree? Aren’t you glad these Caretakers of Art are decreeing that things will be better when nobody gets paid for their work, that they will in fact have to pay someone else to publish it, that they will have to handle cover design, marketing, and promotion all by themselves?

Yes, sure, every author is expected to do some promo, even at the big houses. But we’re not alone in it. We’re not making meetings with book buyers at stores trying to convince them to buy our books; our publisher’s sales staffs take care of that. Even when PERSONAL DEMONS was originally released by Juno/Wildside, a small press, they took out ads in Romantic Times and made sure the book got reviews. Yes, I have some promo plans on my own for my books. Yes, I carry out what I can. But I do the suff that’s fun. I blog. I Twitter. I play on Facebook when time allows. I don’t carry copies of my book hoping to sell them to random strangers. I don’t slip cards with my title and cover into my utility bills when I pay them in hopes someone will see it and give the book a chance. I don’t have to invest a dime of my own money if I don’t want to. I have, yes, but the only reason I can afford to do so is because I was paid an advance for my work.

Frankly, if I’d had to pay to be published, I wouldn’t be published. I couldn’t afford it. Nor could most professional writers I know, very few of whom could manage to scrape together $5k to pay a publisher.

So what would we have, in a world where those Evil NY Houses have fallen?

We’d have books written exclusively by those who could afford it. Much like in the 18th century, when so many books were diaries of some peeress’s trip through Europe with titles like, “My Gleanings.” FUN. I know I can’t wait to read books written exclusively by the wealthy, with no viewpoints other than their own. I’m sick of hearing what baby boomers think already; I can assure you I don’t want to read more of their “Gee, the sixties were sooo great!” back-patting. I know I can’t wait for a world where books written by those from other cultures have no chance to be translated into English and released here, when we become even more ignorant of the lives of those in the world outside because there’s no way to get their books in front of English-speaking audiences. Oh, and of course, given that self-published books tend to be much more expensive, thanks to POD technology, I can’t wait for a world when reading and books are even less available to the poor. When they don’t have the same opportunities thanks to their inability to get hold of books.

Oh, what’s that you say? Oh, right. The internet will provide all of that. Of course. Because I know when I want something to read I’d much rather spend hours and hours slogging around online looking for something decent than just go to a bookstore. I know people who can’t afford books totally have the money for laptops and ereaders and the internet. So in seeking to democratize literature, what you are actually doing is STEALING IT from those less fortunate than you.

We’d also have a lot more unreadable books. I’m sorry, but it’s true. For every excellent work of self-published fiction–and they are out there, make no mistake–and for every one that’s not bad, just not terribly polished or professional or interesting, there are dozens of horrible ones. Not horrible the way so many of you like to put down NY books which aren’t to your taste, but awful. Really.

Let’s not forget that the way most people learn proper grammar, punctuation, and spelling isn’t through school. I mean, we do learn those things at school, but we develop those skills by reading. So you tell me, how literate will we be as a society when there are no professionally written books? When there are no people to judge if a work is even readable or not before it gets published? When anything goes? Would you like to go back to the middle ages, when words were just spelled however they sounded? Because I wouldn’t.

But this is it. With no publishing houses, there are no gatekeepers. Without publishing houses, bookstores–not just the big conglomerate ones, but the independents–will fail. There will be no way to check a book out before you buy it. No libraries, which are already in trouble. Writers with talent will be forced to suck up to reach people in hopes of their financing the writer’s latest books. I know I look forward to the day where I have to go out hunting for a sugar daddy so I can keep publishing, and hope he lets me write what I want and not simply odes to himself.

Maybe I’ll be lucky, though. Maybe that sugar daddy will simply love my work, and will publish it. Maybe he’ll grease the right wheels so my book can be sold through some outlet. Maybe he’ll pay someone to help me polish it; not change it, but polish it, catch the things I didn’t catch. Maybe I’ll be really lucky, and he’ll even pay me a share of the book’s earnings.

In short, maybe he’ll set up a publishing company.

Bringing Down The Man or claiming the world will be so much better when the NY houses are no longer around is a fallacy. You’re hurting yourself, you’re hurting all writers, you’re hurting people whose only education comes from the books they find and read themselves, you’re hurting people who depend on those industries to put food on the table, you’re hurting artists in other countries, you’re hurting everyone with a story to tell. You’re making literacy a hobby for the rich.

Wow. That’s something to be proud of.