Diane Meier, an exceptionally inspiring woman who is the president of marketing firm, MEIER in New York City and is the author of the novel "The Season of Second Chances". We contacted Diane to share her experience of publishing a book and her views on the rising popularity of digital books.
E-Junkie has asked if I’d discuss my feelings about having a book produced in an e-book format. But I have to admit, at least for me, it’s kind of a non-issue. I am a marketer and as such, schooled to never confuse content with delivery system. I’m keenly aware of the fact that the Internet brings all kinds of opportunities to amplify ideas. But none of them as powerful as the endorsement that comes from an authoritative and branded resource.
Let’s face it, a rave on the front page of The New York Times Book Review, even from a reviewer you’ve never heard of, will still trump a dozen five star reviews on Amazon. And if you don’t think it’s true, watch the book rank numbers on Amazon rise like a hot air balloon the day the NYT review launches. But whether I read The Times on paper or on my iPad, it’s The Time I’m embracing, not the delivery system. And it’s the same thing with a book. Frankly, I like beautiful books. I like the look of them. The feel of them. 'The Season of Second Chances', my first novel, was particularly beautiful, with a rich teal jacket that sported exuberant William Morris flowers, taken from a specific wallpaper referred to in the story, and end papers of that same print in smaller scale. The pages are deckled, thick and creamy. The hard bound cover is butter yellow. I like holding it. I like my book. I love books in general.
Two weeks after its launch, I was invited to speak to a reading group at a country club in New Jersey. It was so early in the launch that I’d only spoken to people who needed to be convinced to buy my book. My task had been to whet their appetites. But it seemed clear, from the moment the car and driver dropped me at the country club door, that some from this audience were already fans. They excitedly began to ask me pointed questions about characters from my book, referring to them by name, as I walked across the threshold of the dining room.
When I stood to speak, I asked for a show of hands before answering such specific questions – to avoid spoiling the book for a potentially large portion of the group. To my surprise, a hundred hands were raised. Everyone in the room attested to reading The Season of Second Chances.
As the talk progressed, I told them a story about being presented at the New York State Literary Festival, my book held in the air by a moderator who said something like: “This is a wonderful book, but it will not be taken seriously, nor reviewed in The Times, nor nominated for awards – because it has flowers on the cover.”
She meant, of course, to point out the challenges women face as authors of fiction. Domestic themes are rarely if ever taken seriously. If they are not labeled “Chic Lit”, they are dressed up with a title intended to garner more respect: “Women’s Literature” or “Women’s Fiction”. Not simply, I pointed out, “Fiction” or “Literature”. Men won’t read books about women and domestic subjects, we’re told, and men certainly won’t read books with flowers on the cover.
The consequences are far greater than whether an individual author, no matter what gender, feels like Rodney Dangerfield. It means, of course, that if the best and the brightest women novelists are not choosing to write about our domestic lives, for fear of diminishing respect, our own stories will not make it to the next generations. And that’s a terrible legacy to be passing on. I made the point to my Country Club audience that I was torn. I loved my cover. Flowers and all. It reflected the beauty and the values in the book. Were we to change it because of the limits of society, or were we supposed to try to change society to learn to value “female” things of domestic use and style, I asked.
The audience was clearly energized by this conversation, but in the crowd there was another flurry of voices who asked to see the cover. “Wait a minute!” I cried out. “You all said that you’d read this book. Clearly you haven’t!”
“We have!” they responded. And half of them called out, “We read it on our Kindles!”
That afternoon, far more than half of those Kindle readers bought the hardcover edition of my book. Once they could see it, they wanted to own such a lovely object. But here’s the important thing: between the Kindle edition-readers and the physical-book readers, I heard no difference in their questions about the story, or their emotional connection to the characters, the tale, or to me. I couldn’t confuse content with delivery system.
This month The Season of Second Chances comes out in Trade Paperback. It has a great cover that suggests the Victorian house restoration (and the restoration of the heart of its owner) that is at the center of my story. Gone are the flowers from the cover. Gone are the beautiful end papers and the deckled pages. The very nice layout of type and chapter heads remain, and along with the text is a Reading Group Guide that fully expresses many of the themes and issues of the book. But the Paperback is yet another delivery system. We no longer assume, as our culture did in the 1950’s, that the nature of the story or the value of its content is diminished by its paperback format. We know so much more now about allowing people to have things in forms that they deem most convenient or valuable. And in this, as in so much, it is impossible for me to separate the marketer from the author. Thank goodness.
If you wish to read more informative and insightful articles from experts like Diane, then do join us and let us bring that information to you. You can subscribe to our RSS feed or choose to recieve updates directly in your inbox. You can also find us on Facebook and Twitter.
Post a Comment