What Chris Anderson's "Free" Means for Fiction Writers

Chris Anderson’s new book, Free, is a concise and articulate packaging of ideas that will be prosaic to anyone who’s paid attention to the economics of the web.  Which means that, for most folks out there, it’s an excellent and insightful read.  While not as exciting as his earlier work, The Long Tail, the book does offer interesting food for thought for fiction writers looking to use the web to reach an audience and, hopefully, earn a little money.

Before exploring how Free applies to fiction writing, though, I should mention that Anderson has been nice enough to practice his own message and so is giving the book away for free in a variety of formats.  I listened to the audiobook version, which was of excellent quality.

The key idea in Anderson’s book is that the technology of the Internet drives the marginal cost of content to zero. Each print copy of my novel The Hole will, when the book is published, cost a dollar or two to produce. Paper is physical stuff and physical stuff has to be paid for.  But each web based copy costs me effectively nothing.  While I pay twenty dollars a month for web hosting, having you click through to the novel’s online serial edition doesn’t drive up that cost.  Each new reader of the online edition, in other words, is free to me. So, while I can’t afford to give away free copies of The Hole in print to anyone who might want one, I can afford to give it away without charge in an electronic format.  The trick–and the topic of much of Anderson’s book–is how to make money doing so.

A handful of business models exist.  I can go the traditional web publisher route and place advertisements alongside the novel’s text.  But that doesn’t produce much income because the traffic to even a hugely successful writer’s home page is tiny compared to the New York Times or ESPN. I probably won’t earn even a livable wage with banner ads.

I could adopt a “freemium” model, where a limited version of the service is given away for free in the hopes of attracting some users to a paid, premium version. This is the method most authors who’ve given away their works use.  Cory Doctorow, for instance, posts Creative Commons licensed electronic editions of all his novels for free download on his website. Readers are free to consume them without charge–but have to pay for a bound copy in a bookstore or from Amazon.com.  Chris Anderson does exactly the same with Free itself. And this is the method I’ve used for The Hole. Throughout the composition of the first draft, I serialized the chapters and let the world access them for free through my website.  The revised edition, however, will be a paid product, both in print and ebook.  This “freemium” model had the added benefit of landing me a publishing contract.  My publisher, Permuted Press, found The Hole through my webpage and offered to publish it partly because of the readers it had attracted.

The benefit of free is that it allows for a large audience.  People don’t have to give up anything except their time to use the product–in this case, to read the author’s book–so they’re more willing to give it a chance.  The key is turning that larger audience into cash. Besides the two methods outlined above, another possibility is granting early access to paid readers.  Subscribe and you can get the book in electronic format months before it hits stores.  The trouble here is that it reverses one of the key equations in the free ecosystem.  Namely, having a large audience of non-paying readers creates buzz, which attracts more readers, some of whom may pay. By limiting the initial audience to paid subscribers, the author forgoes that early buzz.

Or an author might front load the freemium model by using a bounty system.  I could post a one paragraph overview of a book idea I have, along with a free first chapter.  Readers could pledge to buy the print edition when the book is published and, if a certain threshold of pledges is met, I get to work writing and serializing (for free) the results. The trouble here is that it demands a sizable base of fans before any hope of meeting even a modest threshold can exist.

What’s important for fiction writers is not the specific business model each uses.  What’s important is understanding what free does to publishing.  Chris Anderson’s book provides a great starting point for the conversation.  It’s up to the market and the ingenuity of individual writers to take it from there.

Rewriting the beginning of THE HOLE

While going through my editor’s comments on the manuscript of THE HOLE, I kept coming back to the same conclusion: I’m just not that happy with the way the book begins.  Aside from a handful of awkward moments, most of the plot problems throughout the novel are a direct result of things that are said or events that occur in the first twenty or thirty pages.  So I made the decision to rewrite them.  In doing so, I get to tweak some stuff that’s bothered me about the book, such as the status of Elliot and Evajean’s relationship and their motivation for setting out on their quest.

It’s something of an adventure plugging a new section into a completed manuscript.  Matching the language, for one, is interesting.  THE HOLE is written is a spare, crime fiction inspired style, and it’s a little different from the short fiction I’ve worked on recently.  So I’m having to rewire brain to get back in that flow.

Below is a taste of what I’ve come up with.  For the rest, you’ll just have to wait until the book is released by Permuted Press.  Still no date set for that happy day, but I’ll post here as soon as there is.

And now, the new first two-hundred words of THE HOLE:

Elliot sat on the front steps of his house and sipped a warm Dr. Pepper as he watched his neighbor drag her husband’s corpse to the curb.

He hadn’t realized the woman was still alive.

Elliot set the can down and stood up.  He walked across the lawn toward her.  “Need help?” he called.

She turned her head.  She stared at him.  Elliot smiled and lifted his arm in a half-hearted wave.  He said, “You want me to help you?”  He’d kept walking and she was now only a handful of paces away.  He said, “Evajean, right?  Your name’s Evajean?”

She nodded.  The dead man’s wrists looked huge in her small hands.

“I’m Elliot,” he said.  “I live next door.”  He looked down at the body.  “Where are you taking him?”

“Away,” she said.

Elliot said, “Okay.  I’ll help.  If he’s too heavy for you, I’ll help carry him.”

She nodded.  “Yeah,” she said.  “Okay.”

So Elliot took the large man’s ankles and, together, they moved him to an old Subaru parked in front of Evajean’s house.  She pulled keys from her pocket, unlocked the car, and lifted hatchback.  “In here,” she said.

Atlas Shrugged: Skewering Collectivists

This post continues my journal of impressions and thoughts as I read Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged for the first time.

I have to give Ayn Rand credit for knowing how to make a collectivist look foolish.  While her writing is generally pretty bland and her dialog stiff, the novel comes to life–in a peculiar, risen dead sort of way–when she portrays the upper class academics and hangers on of the collectivist variety: the college professors and politicians who claim everyone should live for the good of everyone else and all personal earnings are to be tolerated only insofar as they can be used to improve the lot of “society.”

The passages remind me of the scene in Cryptonomicon when Neal Stepenson so skillfully pokes fun at liberal arts scholars by comparing them to Tolkien’s hobbits.  I imagine that, if it weren’t for the give away of Ayn Rand’s name on the spine and cover, many of the intellectuals I’ve met would nod along with these characters, feeling right at home in their banter.  There’s clever pseudo-profundity in what they have to say.

So, while the discussions between her businessmen characters don’t do a lot for me–not because they’re outright wrong but because they just aren’t terribly interesting–the party scenes are a hoot.

Atlas Shrugged: Initial Impressions

Sans its message, sans its historical significance, sans its ability to turn young people into libertarians, the first thing one picks up on when starting Atlas Shrugged is the poverty of the prose. Ayn Rand, no matter her or her followers’ opinion otherwise, just isn’t a very good writer. The language is plodding, non-lyrical, and often often awkward. For example, in one scene she writes, “He stood slouching against the bar.” To my knowledge, one stands against a bar or one slouches against a bar–but one does not stand slouching. An editor would’ve fixed that, but I was told once–and maybe this is apocryphal–that Rand refused such editing, asking, “Would you edit the Bible” Ignoring that the Bible was, in fact, edited through countless revisions and translations over thousands of years, Atlas Shrugged is not the Bible.  It is not scripture, nor does it benefit from the myth of a divine author whose original manuscript is lost in prehistory.

What else comes to mind, a mere 200 pages into this monstrous novel? Well, I can’t imagine wanting to hang out with any of these people. Her good guys are, without exception, awful human beings. They display no compassion and evidence no empathy. A world filled with such super men would be a terrible place, indeed. Her bad guys, on the other hand–her collectivists and leftists and academics–are ugly little toads who snivel and beg from the arch-capitalists we’re all supposed to look up to when we aren’t looking for an excuse to leave. Objectivism, at least as presented in this seminal text, affords no nuance.

None of this precludes the worthiness of Rand’s ideas, however. I have not encountered enough of those in the fist sixth of the book to adequately judge them, so such critique will have to wait until future posts.  While I imagine there will be a great deal throughout Atlas Shrugged I disagree with, and a great deal I am sympathetic towards, the fact remains that, except for my knowledge that this is a novel of ideas, one read for its philosophy and arguments and intellectual importance, I’d have put it down long ago.

And now the hard part…

Writing a novel is terrific fun. Editing it isn’t. But that’s the predicament I find myself in, as I’ve received the first round of extensive feedback from my wonderful new editor, and I’m slowly digging in for the long haul. The good news is, THE HOLE will be a much better novel as a result. The bad news is that it means my other writing projects must be a little backburnered so I can get the book on store shelves in a reasonable time.

I’ll try to post my thoughts as I go through this first experience editing a lengthy work. Words of encouragement are great, too, however…