Now We Are Two

Here's a nice article, reproduced word-for-word from Book Brunch about my publishers, Unbound, on the occasion of their second birthday.

Unbound: now we are two

John Mitchinson reflects on how an idea dreamed up over a few pints in a pub is starting - after two years, 30,000 registered users, 70 projects launched, and 20 books published - to look and feel like a business.

Looking backwards is always dangerous. As Thoreau said, don't do it unless you're planning to go that way. But it's impossible, sitting here in the cold, driving rain of Hay-on-Wye in May, not to do some reminiscing. It was here two years ago, in a rather fancy purpose-built shed, that we launched Unbound, then (as now) the only crowd-funding site purely for books. The weather was variable, but the excitement of finally turning an idea born around a pub table into three-dimensional reality, burned with a steady flame that kept up us warm, when the sun gave way to rain. Which it did roughly every 10 minutes.

They say the first two years are the hardest for a start-up. A third of new businesses don't even last that long. And although I would be lying if I said the past two years had been entirely lacking in stress, it's also true that they have been the most exciting of my whole career. I was fortunate in my choice of partners. Dan Kieran and Justin Pollard, my co-founders, are both damn fine writers, but they have demonstrated an amazing ability to turn themselves into entrepreneurs when the conditions demanded it (which they have, pretty much every day). We have managed to run a business together and to remain friends, which may be our most important achievement. Of course, business plans and P&Ls and investor presentations and tax returns are all essential, but the core of a business is its culture. And Unbound culture is based on two simple principles: that stories and ideas have value, and that putting writers and readers in direct touch is the best way of realising that value.

So has the experiment worked? Well, we've raised almost a million pounds in pledges, built a list of 30,000 registered users (two-thirds of whom spend money regularly); we've funded 33 books, published 20, and have another 28 on the site. Only eight projects have failed out of 70 launched. The rate of launches is now running at five a month; by the end of next year we should have a backlist of 75 titles. The average pledge, amazingly, has remained steady at £32. We've had an incredibly lively programme of launch parties, meet-the-author lunches, Unbound Lives, day trips, pub crawls, quiz nights, even a séance, all of them funded directly by readers. And where there was once only three, now there are 10. We, finally, have an office in Soho. Yes, it's beginning to look and feel suspiciously like a business. That's the only explanation I can find for our unprecedented shortlisting as Independent Publisher of the Year at the recent Bookseller Awards. And though we didn't win, we celebrated as though we had.

The downsides? The same as any start-up. There isn't ever enough time. There isn't ever enough money. You have to inure yourself to crises, to keep calm and cheerful and to trust in the clarity and simplicity of the vision. The upsides? Making books still gets me out of bed (and keeps me out). This week I've written the pitch for the launch of a brilliantly ambitious one-volume history of the music industry by the legendary Simon Napier-Bell, manager of the Yardbirds, T Rex and Wham; I've watched our newest novelist, Hugh Cornwell, play a mighty acoustic gig at the Hay Festival; I've pored over the proofs of our big autumn title, Letters of Note, and helped Jonathan Meades select his extraordinary photographs for his forthcoming postcard box, Pidgin Snaps.

If this sounds rather like a "traditional" publisher at work, that's because it is. Making books is still about finding great ideas and working with authors to realise them, to sharpen and focus their trajectory into the world. But what makes working at Unbound very different is that we have contact with the other side of that equation. The constant stream of tweets and messages from readers, enthusing about books, sharing their recommendations, offering us advice, submitting ideas and - crucially - sending us money. We all feel plugged into the tastes and passions of readers, and that is both motivating and commercially invaluable. Not everything we do works, but we are able to change and adapt rapidly. It reminds me of working in a bookshop - anyone who spends a day interacting with readers soon loses their cultural pessimism.

And on that optimistic note, I'll leave it. We've had a blast. Thank you for your support. Try it yourselves: Lord knows, there's plenty of room for innovation. And as for advice, how about this: "There are two rules for success: 1) Never tell everything you know."

John Mitchinson is Publisher and Co-founder of Unbound

Photo: Making Hay - John Mitchinson (fourth from left) with (from left) authors Stevyn Colgan, Adrian Teal, Justin Pollard (co-founder), David Bramwell and Katy Brand                

If you're going to get RSA, this is the way to get it

Yesterday I did a mass signing of copies of Constable Colgan's Connectoscope at Unbound HQ. What a joyous job.

And here you can see Isobel and Caitlin working hard getting all of your copies into envelopes ready for posting. Excitements!

Enthusiasm Unbound

On Monday I took part in my third Unbound literary event at the Tabernacle in Notting Hill, London. As always, it was a spirited 'bookslam' with a number of Unbound's authors pimping their books to an enthusiastic, supportive and wonderful audience. The evening was introduced by one of the publisher's founders, Mr John Mitchinson ...

... and he was followed by a succession of speakers, including myself. Here's the line-up, including a quick precis and hyperlinks to their books.

To kick the evening off, we had a great presentation by David Bramwell about his book The Number 9 Bus to Utopia in which he visits a number of communities around the world that believe that they have discovered a better way to live your life.

Next up was Robert Llewellyn talking about News from the Squares, his sequel to the hugely popular eco-friendly sci-fi novel News from Gardenia ...

'Queen of Tarts' Tamasin Day-Lewis then tempted us to buy her new book Smart Tart by selling slices of a freshly made chocolate tart in return for pledges. Mitch could not resist ...

Up next was the always entertaining Keith Kahn-Harris talking about his 'big fish in small ponds' project The Best Water Skier in Luxembourg. Keith's just back from meeting the most powerful politician on Alderney and is now preparing to meet the top heavy metal band in Botswana ...

Closing off the first half with his usual thump and gusto was performance poet George Chopping, author of the rather brilliant Smoking with Crohn's.

The second half kicked off with me talking about police work, fruit and the structure of the universe; all part and parcel of my new book, Constable Colgan's Connectoscope ...

Jessica Jones then told us all about her bittersweet memoir The Elegant Art of Falling Apart; an often hilarious, occasionally tearful account of how she beat breast cancer, survived broken relationships and a breakdown to become the strong, witty, wonderful lady that she is.

Lisa Gee regaled us with tales from Hayleyworld, her hilarious biography of William Hayley; terrible poet, terribly nice man and terrible horseman ...

Penultimately, Benet Brandreth and Robert Hudson gave us a sneaky preview of the next series (and future Unbound book) of Warhorses of Letters, the acclaimed BBC radio comedy  ...

... and we were serenaded on our way by a fantastic acoustic set from Luca Serino and Harry Shearer of The Fireflies.

Another wonderful event to be part of. I hope that everyone's book does very, very well (and that The Fireflies get a music deal and the great producer they deserve)!

All photos (c) Stevyn Colgan

Editors! Be vigil, though!

It used to be quite hard to find genuinely bad books. Traditional publishing houses have commissioners and editors and critical readers who sift the wheat from the chaff. The odd corker slipped through now and again but it was a rarity.

But the landscape of publishing is changing rapidly. The arrival of affordable digital printing now means that anyone can publish a book. So-called 'vanity publishing' (I prefer the less judgemental term 'self-publishing') is on the increase and companies like Lulu, Café Press, Blurb and Authorhouse now provide a complete service from manuscript to marketing and can organise print runs from one to a million copies if you’re willing to pay. You can also post an e-book directly to Amazon or iTunes; a fact that's had a huge injection of publicity since 50 Shades of Grey came out. All of which means that publishing is now a realistic and affordable option for everyone. It's a good thing. But it's also a bad thing because the floodgates have been opened and there are no filters in place.

Writers need good editors. Just pick up a newspaper or magazine today and count the number of errors. Mistakes have increased dramatically in the past few years because cost-cutting has led to the laying off of sub-editors in their droves. Without editors, we're utterly reliant on the author who may be a wonderfully imaginative storyteller but doesn't necessarily have a good grasp of proper grammar, spelling and syntax. Without editors the author may miss a glaring plot-hole or continuity error; as I know from experience, it's very easy to become so close to a project, so deeply involved, that you can't see something that's staring you in the face. I once wrote a novel and gave it out to several critical readers who all pointed out the same omission regarding one of my characters. I'd created an entire back story and biography for the character. I'd also had a very clear idea in my head what they looked like but hadn't described them as fully as I should. Consequently, when something happens later that relates to his son having lost an eye as a child, my editors pointed out that I hadn't mentioned that before. It was a silly mistake on my part. Thank goodness for editors.

All of which brings me to the point of this ramble. I know that many people who read this blog are writers or budding writers. What I'm saying to you is, take advantage of new media. Get your book out any way you can. But do let people read it first: people you know who read, who know books; people who are good writers themselves; people with good English skills; people you know well enough that they can be honest and constructively critical with you. I do it all the time and it is invaluable.

But let me show you what happens if you don't.

Back in 1997, I was asked to paint the front cover of a book. The book was called The Wayfarer: Bilbabalbabul and it was by a man called Aaron Jones. How he'd heard of me I don't know. Why he chose me is even more of a mystery. I was a cartoonist and illustrator back then - I've only really learned to paint in the past couple of years and I'm still learning. However, he started talking some quite decent money so I said yes, callow money-grubber that I am. Naturally I wanted to read the book to find suitable inspiration for the painting, so the reclusive Mr Jones sent me a copy of the manuscript via his printers (I never got to meet the man) and a copy of his previous book Souls of the Universe.



The back cover blurb for the book told me this:

‘He had heard of the great immortal city; the citadel of mystery and foreboding. It was the fabulous infamous city all outsiders feared to enter. Yet the bold wayfarer became obsessed by its existence, thus he sought to find it. On his far journeys he would confront all evil obstacles, encounter the wizards of science, the wondrous characters; wild and weird communities. He visited the inns and taverns, braved the deep forests, and he relished the damsels. But he knew he must one day find and behold the phenomenon; thence brazenly enter into the citadel of Bilbabalbabul.’

This was English of a kind I'd not really encountered before. I started to read the manuscript. The book begins with a description of the Middle Earth-like world of Gyral the Tall Elf:

‘This was a world known by so many names in aeons past, whose indigenous life intelligence had evolved through millions of years; through epochs of profound science and technology, through an age when they had mastered space travel; ventured to the far stars and had brought back many alien things. Super minerals and materials, life forms of numerous kinds; thus had created a world of time resilient synthetics; a world of hybrids, of humans; a mixture of countless breeds gone wild.’

Having set the scene, Jones then goes on to tell the tale of Gyral the Tall Elf, his flatulent talking mount Lollyvok, and their adventures in the grimly mysterious and extraordinarily named city of Bilbabalbabul. He does so with a disregard for English grammar and punctuation that borders on genius. He sprinkles semicolons around like sawdust on a Hobbit’s floor and happily substitutes synonyms without realising that he’s swapped from verb to noun or vice versa or has used a word completely out of context. The result is curiously mangled sentences like:

‘He climbed the hill for to get a better vista.’

'Thus I reassert you; my house, my ladies, viands and refreshments are yours.’

‘You have style in your mode.’

And the delicious:

‘He is diseased beyond repair’.

The book was an extraordinary read. Among my favourite pieces of prose are these treasures:

‘And one room in his grange was said to be filled with a great jumble of curios, antiques, preserved ancient books of wizardry, incantations, and tales of bygone aeons, and everything.’

'The effeminate albino pursed his thick lips in that certain way to suggest he was male, but homosexual.’

‘Gyral was ever vigil with shifty eyes, hand ready with sword. He then heard voices again and saw something shifting among further Orcle trunks. He just kept walking until he came to a clearing. And nothing happened.’

'He then looked on to his destination again, tilted his feather billed hat, Lollyvok broke wind, and off they shuffled under the frowning red sun’.

And my personal favourite:

‘A couple of pigmy beings then came out from a hut, hobbling in that odd swaying simian manner. In fact they looked like pigmy simians.’

Jones self-published the book and kindly sent me a copy. He later released an expanded second edition with over 10,000 additional words. And then, either because the edition sold out (I have no idea of the size of the print run) or, more likely, he’d given them all away, he ordered a third print run and expanded the book still further. This third edition is twice the size of the first. I suspect that Jones may have run out of money by this time though as the cover of the third edition is monochrome rather than full colour.



You can still get copies of The Wayfarer: Bilbabalbabul through outlets like Abebooks and it still has a listing on Amazon. I was surprised to see myself credited as the illustrator (under the nom de plume of Stephen Meryk Colgan - I was still experimenting) as I only painted the cover. And I didn’t do a terribly good job of that. But it was the best I could do at the time and Mr Jones was massively happy with it, apparently. But I say to you now – buy it while you can. It will become a cult classic I’m sure.

But, to be serious for a moment, as much as I love the book, this episode in my life is tinged with regret. I wish I'd had the balls to tell the man that his book was full of mistakes. I wish I'd known him well enough to point out the obvious flaws. But I was just the cover artist; I didn't ever meet him. If anyone did ever get to read it and feedback to him, he obviously ignored it. I suspect no one but me got to read it before it was published. And that's a great shame. I'm not sure the book would ever have been a good book but it would have been a better book with some editing. As it stands, it's so laughably bad that it's unintentionally hilarious.

If it seems like I am attacking Aaron Jones, rest assured I’m not. I think that the book is brilliant in its naivety. It is apparent to anyone who reads The Wayfarer: Bilbabalbabul that Aaron Jones is not a gifted writer but he loves to write. You can feel his passion and you cannot fault the man’s self-belief. And that’s the whole point isn't it? If you love to write then you should write. If it brings you joy, write all the time. And if you desperately want to get published and can't do it by conventional means, there are more avenues available to you than at any time in history. Just make sure you have someone edit it with you before you put it out.

I hope that Aaron Jones is still writing. I hope that seeing his book in print brought him joy. Because that would mean that, despite all of the knock backs and rejections, his passion is undimmed.

Good for him. There's a lesson there for us all.

For more on the world of self-publishing, see my previous posts The worst book ever written and Naked came the spoof.

Because I hope I'm worth it

As you know, I'm trying to get my latest book published using the crowd-funding site at unbound.co.uk. It was a conscious decision to do so as I felt that they gave a fairer deal to the working writer than more traditional publishers, with which I have had some dealings. If the book is published, I will get the same advance that I was offered elsewhere. But, importantly, I will then get a much higher percentage of any profits than the 10% I could expect otherwise.

It's not the easiest way to sell a book, I'll admit. I'm on Twitter every day flaunting my wares like some street corner hooker, hoping someone will like what they see. Some days, if I'm lucky, I get one or maybe two new pledges. Most days I get nothing at all. Occasionally, I get some troll telling me that I'm asking for too much money. '£50 for a signed book? But you're nobody' wrote someone a few weeks ago. Well, thank you for that morale booster. I desperately wanted to reply that, 'Firstly, it's not compulsory and there are lower levels of pledging. And, secondly, for £50 you'll get a beautifully made hardback book, signed and doodled in by me, an e-book, an audiobook and you'll help me put food on the table for less than the price of a curry for four'. But I didn't. I'm better than that. I even get people telling me that '£20 is too steep for a hardback book'. Is it really? That's the price of a takeaway pizza. For that you get 65,000 words that I've spent more than a year assembling in an order that is, I hope, entertaining and enlightening. It's a year of my life for the same price that you'd pay for 10 minutes of a plumber's time. Oh, and you get the audiobook and the e-book included in the price too. I make no apologies in asking the amounts I'm asking. I won't get the book published if I don't.

Life is tough for the jobbing writer. Back in March, the Authors' Licensing & Collecting Society (ALCS), in conjunction with Bournemouth University and the Centre for Intellectual Property Policy and Management (CIPPM), surveyed 25,000 authors to ask them about their working lives. What it revealed (or, rather, reinforced) is that most authors still struggle to survive. Here are the facts:

A typical UK author earns 33% less than the national average wage. Only the top 10% of writers reap any real rewards - it's a 'winner takes all' market. They earn more than 50% of total income from book sales. In other equally skilled professions the bottom 50% of workers earn nearly 40% of total income. Research by the Society of Authors shows that 75% of writers earn less than £20,000 a year and 46% earn less than £5,000. Only 20% of writers earn their income from writing; 60% of professional writers need another job to survive.

Advances are paid by a publisher so that the writer can pay the bills and conduct the research they need to. Advances have shrunk to pitiful levels. The Society of Authors states that new writers could expect an average advance of £10,000 around 20 years ago: 'Now they're lucky to get between £1,000 and £3,000.' This is partly due to the fact that the pool of money for advances is getting smaller and smaller due to the outrageous sums being paid out to celebrities. Early this year it was reported that Pippa Middleton had recieved a huge advance - reputedly £400,000 - for a book on party planning. And just last week, I felt physically sick when I read that Little Brown had paid out a whopping £350,000 to secure the biography of the winner of Britain's Got Talent 2012. If you need reminding, that was Pudsey the dog. £350,000 for the biography of a dog? That could have been 35 advances of £10,000 to keep 35 writers afloat and put many wonderful new books on the shelves.

Publishers are now so unnerved by Amazon's dominance, e-book downloading and the closure of independent bookshops, they can no longer afford to take much risk on new talent. In the past, they would pay an advance beyond a debut book's value because they recognised that they were nurturing a promising author but the tradition is disappearing.

In a recent article for The Guardian, bestselling author Ian Rankin wrote: 'The internet has pluses and minuses. It's easier than ever to get your stuff seen by people. But it's harder than ever to make a living from it. Look at the money that publishers are paying for new writers … less than they paid 20 years ago. They know first novels don't sell many copies and, if writers decide … to sidestep the traditional publishing route and sell their stuff by themselves online, they're having to sell it for virtually nothing – 99p.' He has made a plea for tax-breaks for writers. Rankin believes that a scheme modelled on the artists' exemption arrangement in Ireland would invest in the next generation of creative talent. 'If you want to give new writers a start, then a tax incentive is one thing you can do,' he said. Under the 1997 Irish scheme, the first €40,000 (£33,000) of annual income earned by writers, composers or visual artists from the sale of their work is exempt from tax. As Rankin explained, the scheme was capped because some well-established names were 'tempted to move to Ireland' to avoid tax.

Very few of us writers will ever earn good money from it. Very very few of us will ever be bestsellers. But some of the best books I've ever read have been by writers whose chances of making the Top 10 in W H Smith are very unlikely. Unbound offers me the best return on my investment of time and effort. If the book is published, I will earn less from it than I used to earn in a month when I was a policeman. But it will be more than I could ever hope for from traditional publishing.

So that's why I'll continue to whore myself. And that's why I say to the trolls 'You think £20 for a book is too steep? I'm sorry you feel that way but I happen to think I'm worth more than three packets of fags.'

And if you're supporting my book, thank you from the bottom of my heart.


Sources:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/jan/16/ian-rankin-tax-incentives-authors
http://www.prnewswire.co.uk/news-releases/new-research-confirms-uk-writers-still-struggle-to-survive-156139775.html
http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/mediamonkeyblog/2012/jul/05/pudsey-to-publish-his-autobidography
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2011/nov/28/pippa-middleton-publisher-advance

Unbound Live 3

Le Baron at The Embassy Mayfair in London was the venue last night for Unbound Live 3; an evening of readings, talks and general tomfoolery by a bunch of authors who all have books either funded or part-funded with Unbound Publishing. You get to Le Baron by walking through a set of plush leather-covered doors and descending a staircase. Once you get downstairs, you find a cosy cellar club - very cool, very sophisticated - the kind of place where beat poets have throw-downs and B-list celebs hold birthday parties for their chihuahuas. The first thing that greets you as you walk in the door is a six feet tall sculpture of Mickey Mouse in bright pink fibreglass. Good grief. I'm told it's a Jeff Koons (it doesn't look like it to me - it kind of looks more like a Ron English - but I will track down the artist). All I know is that it's very very scary. And just a little bit humbling.

The second thing I spotted was this notice behind the bar ...

... which I immediately took a photo of. Many private clubs do, of course, have a no photo policy. It's nice to have little havens where the paparazzi are politely invited to feck off. However, because this was an organised event and not a normal members night, I could snap away with impunity. So I did. And here are a few of the pictures I took.

The evening started with a rousing introduction from Unbound co-founder John Mitchinson followed by Mr Robert Llewellyn reading from his Utopian novel News from Gardenia. It's a lovely book - I've read mine already - which has a genuinely positive view of the future. Robert gives us a story in which a chap from the present day is thrown 200 years into the future but, rather than the usual post-apocalyptic or dystopian societies so beloved of Hollywood and sci-fi novelists, in this future we got it right. The book shows us how things could be if we make the right choices now about technology, fuel, even how we choose to live our lives. As you'd expect from someone with Robert's CV, his reading was funny, animated and great to listen to. But could I wheedle any snippets from him about the new series of Red Dwarf? Could I smeg.

 

Then it was me, doing my bit to convince people to fund my new book Constable Colgan's Connectoscope. It seemed to go okay. No one threw anything anyway. Well, nothing too hard or spiky.

I was followed by the always entertaining Adrian Teal with a pitch for his excellent Gin Lane Gazette. His lurid tales of Georgian debauchery were hilarious - even more so because they were all true. I was particularly amused by the tale of how John Wilkes hid a baboon in a trunk and smuggled it into a meeting of the notorious Hellfire Club. During a mock black mass, the animal was freed from the box, causing many there to believe that the Devil had made an appearance. It just so happens that I live about three miles from the Dashwood estate and the Hellfire caves so it's a story I know well. I've rarely heard it told so humorously though.

We then had some spirited poetry from George Chopping's Smoking with Crohn's anthology and a musical interlude from the very talented Miss V. George had even gone so far as to write an anthem for Unbound which he sang with some gusto and in a variety of keys. Miss V, thankfully, was very much on key and has a glorious voice. She serenaded us beautifully as we scrabbled at the bar during the intermission and tried to avoid bumping into Mickey's nob.

Part Two kicked off with Keith Kahn-Harris plugging his book The Best Waterskier in Luxembourg. It's a wonderful collection of big fish in small ponds celebrity stories. Don't you want to meet the best heavy metal band in Botswana? Or the most powerful politician on Alderney? I know I do. I'm really looking forward to this book. Then comedian Katy Brand took the stage to read - for the very first time anywhere - an exclusive chapter from her first novel Brenda Monk is Funny. It's clearly semi-autobiographical in nature and the extract we heard gave some idea of the trials and tribulations of being a female stand-up comedian. I'm delighted to reveal that Katy is appearing in the new series of QI that starts recording shortly.

The performances ended with comedian, chef and ranconteur Hardeep Singh Kohli telling us all about his book A Month of Sundays; a celebration (with recipes) of the sadly disappearing tradition of getting the family together on a Sunday to eat, drink and be merry. Here he is - the only man cool enough to wear shades in a darkened underground nightclub - and demonstrating why he's kniown as the Chic Sikh. Or will be from now on.

Hardeep said something quite profound during his talk. Well, he said a number of profound things but, having drunk much of central London's Cornish brewery beer supplies, I can only remember the one that struck the deepest chord with me. It went something like 'Unbound is publishing the books that traditional publishers are too arrogant or too short-sighted to publish. This is the future. We've seen it happen with music, now it's happening with books; it's the consumer who should be making the decisions, not the accountants.' I couldn't agree with him more.

It was a very entertaining evening and it was nice to meet people who, although they weren't speaking, also have some great projects on the go. Joel Meadows was there, whose Tripwire at 20  is a wonderful anniversary book for one of the best - if not the best known - genre magazines on the market. Legendary 80s clubland photographer Graham Smith was there too and I did make off with a signed copy of his We can be Heroes. I also met up with old frends and Twitter chums Mo McFarland, Steve Hills, Terry Bergin, Stuart Witts, Xander Cansell, start up genius Robert Loch and film director Richard Butchins.

A great night out - roll on Unbound Live 4. And if any of the books I've mentioned sound like something you'd want to read, follow the links and pledge!

  

Constable Colgan's Connectoscope is here!

In 2008, I published Joined-Up Thinking (Pan Macmillan) - a series of mad circular journeys through the world of trivia. Now, four years later, I'm back with Constable Colgan's Connectoscope. Bigger, fatter, madder and more entertaining than ever. And so is the book.

I'm publishing the book with Unbound because, in this double-dip, austere, money-is-all-that-matters economy, they are doing something new and exciting and, in my opinion, right. They're putting the power to decide what gets published back into the hands of the readers, rather than company accountants. With Unbound, you get to decide whether my new book becomes a reality. Yes, it's a gamble for me. But I believe in my book and I believe in what Unbound stands for. And I'm not alone. In this past year they've published the likes of Terry Jones, Jonathan Meades, Robert Llewellyn, Kate Mosse and Mrs Stephen Fry. I'm proud to be joining the list.

So, if you want to see my new book become a reality visit Unbound now and pledge. You can pledge at various levels for the e-book, the physical book or for some other tasty treats and enticements I'm offering. Even at the lowest levels you'll get your name in the book and have access to my 'Author's Shed' where I'll regale you with content that the rest of the public don't get to see.

Still not sure? Then try Joined-Up Thinking first. It's a few years old now and you can pick it up dirt-cheap on Amazon and other book sites or, of course, in a book shop. Or look at the reviews posted over in the right hand column of this blog. I've never had a bad one. Which is nice.

Damn you're a hard sell. Okay then. Watch this video. Then click HERE and pledge! Pledge like the wind!

This is the future for books - and isn't it bright?

As you all know, I'm a great lover of books and I can't imagine that there will ever be a day when the paper book disappears. But is that just nostalgia? After all, I am 50 years old and for 4/5ths of my life there wasn't really any viable alternative to books. But now there is.

When I see things like this and think about my young grandchildren who are growing up in a world where everyone has a mobile phone and where e-books are commonplace, I wonder which encyclopaedia will they be drawn to? The flat boring papery thing? Or the shiny plastic and metal thing that has sound and movies and interactivity? I'm pretty sure I know the answer.

They will decide the future of books, not people like me.

On the starting grid of 2012

My blog will be five years old this year (August). That's five years of essays, artwork, fascinating facts and general tomfoolery. You can read it all here and on the blog's previous site here.

It was interesting to look back to the very beginning this morning and to see what I wrote on my first ever blogpost:

'I've also had a number of extremely successful meetings recently and have decided to up the ante on pitching my book projects to agents and publishers. I have lifted myself up from the well of despondency and I'm now happily sat in the bucket of optimism.

Onwards and upwards, people. Onwards and upwards.'

It's exactly how I feel right now - energised and raring to go. And it's worth noting that within six months of writing that post in 2006 I'd landed an agent and a book deal.

There's no such thing as luck. I'm convinced of that. Hell, I even spent a whole year trying to prove it one way or another (for an as yet unpublished book). Luck is being in the right place at the right time. But what gets you there is hard work, determination and a thick skin. If you're out there looking for every opportunity then you're in the right place to grab one when capricious fate throws one near you. Opportunity rarely knocks on your front door; you have to hunt it down and bag it in a net.

I've polished my hunting boots and repaired my nets. 2012 is going to be a very good year. 

Sour grapes? Yes, enough to keep Oliver Reed happy for a year

In years to come, arts pundits will look back on 2011 and talk about 'The Pippa Middleton Moment' - the turning point in the history of publishing. Her name will be cursed through clenched teeth by some. Others will hang posters of her on the wall, like some modern day Che Guevarra. Although, let's be honest, she'll probably be facing the other way.

To be fair to fair Pippa, she will be entirely blameless. Her actions will have been entirely justified and proper. However, hers will be the name that people remember and attach to the pivotal moment when traditional book publishing shot itself in both feet.

In case you don't know, the various newspapers and publishing feeds have been buzzing these past few weeks with the news that a 'significant deal' was about to be brokered for Pippa Middleton to write a book about organising a party. The rumours were that her advance would be in the region of six figures. Now, I won't be so crass as to suggest that the words will be written by anyone other than Ms. Middleton; for all I know she may be a very good writer indeed. I'm sure she's also an excellent party organiser - it is what she does for a living after all. But these issues will not be the reason why the various publishing houses have been cramming themselves into the starting gates and preparing themselves for a bidding war. It's because of who she is or, rather, who she's related to.

Today, a figure emerged of £400,000. I have no idea if it's correct as the sources are tabloid-based (another publishing story altogether) but, if it is, I feel genuinely saddened.

Don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge her the money. Hell, wouldn't we all like to score a deal like that? Of course we would. As I say, she's blameless. Good luck to her. My ire and frustration and annoyance is focused solely on the publishing industry - no, the beam is even narrower than that - it's focused on the accountants that now run the publishing industry and, it seems, everything else. Money has not become the dominant factor in the arts and entertainment (it always was, let's be honest) - it now seems to be the only factor.

You all know, I'm sure, that Richard Adams' Watership Down was rejected 13 times and that The Diary of Young Girl by Anne Frank was rejected 15 times. Frank Herbert's Dune was turned down 23 times, Stephen King's Carrie was rejected 30 times, and Marina Lewycka's recent worldwide best-seller A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian was rejected 36 times. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig was rejected a staggering 121 times. But the winner so far (I've only done 10 minutes of research and am sure it can be beaten) is Chicken Soup for the Soul by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen, which was rejected a staggering 140 times. It has since gone on to sell 80 million copies in 37 languages. And, guess what? J K Rowling's first Harry Potter book was rejected 12 times. All of which means that, in the current climate, it would probably never have been published because it was not a dead cert from the off.

In the past, publishers chose what books to carry on merit and gut instinct. If they felt that the book deserved to be out there in the world and was 'worth a punt', they signed the author. Some failed, many went on to become bestsellers. Which is how J K Rowling eventually got signed by Bloomsbury, despite 12 other publishers saying no. Someone took and risk because they liked it. However, that kind of decision-making is now driven solely by profit margins. If you don't believe me, go and look in the High Street book shop (if you can find one). It's celebrity book after celebrity book. Some of them may be very good; I can't judge them without having read them. But it seems more than likely that many were published simply because there's a readymade fan base that will lap them up. They're dead certs. There's nothing essentially wrong with that  - it makes good business sense. But the problem is that, in order to secure the 'author', the publishers will have had to shell out a small fortune every time. And the amounts are getting bigger and bigger. In these times of austerity, that means that the pot for signing new authors is getting smaller every day. Publishers are as hard-hit by the recession as anyone else and, let's be realistic about this, they are businesses that will collapse themselves if they don't turn a profit. There isn't unlimited cash to splash about. But what cash there is seems to flow only in the direction of the rich or already famous.

I've had some experience of this. If you look to the right of this blog page you'll see some reviews for my first book, Joined-Up Thinking. They were all very positive and complimentary. I didn't get a single bad review. Stephen Fry attached his name to the project with a cover quote. My publisher loved it and paid me a generous advance. I was even asked to go away and write the sequel immediately. But then, as the book awaited printing and distribution, the UK lost several major book retailers - Ottakars, Books etc. and Borders among them - and, within just a few months of signing my book deal, the dominant force in bookselling was the retailers: W H Smiths, John Menzies and the supermarkets. Smaller branches of the stores will only stock the Top 50 charting books and supermarkets are celeb-driven. And neither promote new authors. All of the advertising money is spent on promoting books by celebrities and well-established authors who, let's be honest, don't actually need it. No Dan Brown fan is going to miss the fact that he has a new one out. All that advertising is simply gilding an already 24 carat lily. The result was that my book sold okay - if you'd actually heard about it or could find it. Despite all the predictions of success it had recieved from reviewers and trade magazines, it never stood a chance. And guess what? As the result, the second book I'd been asked to write was dropped like a warm dog turd.

Yes, of course there are some sour grapes on my part. I'm honest enough to admit that. But the story illustrates a much bigger point, namely that my book was considered good enough to warrant an advance, publication and a sequel ... but it was never given the chance to prove itself. My editor was so apologetic. He really believed in both books but he just couldn't get anyone to promote Book 1 and he couldn't get Book 2 past the acountants. Had I been a footballer, or a reality show contestant or the sister-in-law of the future king, he would have had no such problem no matter how good or bad the book would have been.

Which brings me back to the Pippa Middleton case. I wish her well, I really do. I hope the book is a huge success. I'd wish that to any author. But that £400,000 is not going to discover the next J K Rowling or the next Stephen king. It won't provide an advance that will allow some brilliant new author to research their novel. It won't pay someone's food and rent while they work on that next great children's book. It won't be used to promote new books by new writers. And, I suspect, it won't generate a book that we'll all be talking about in 10 years time, let alone 100.

What it will do is drive more frustrated authors into the arms of self-publishing companies. Or maybe they'll try their luck with a crowd-funded enterprise like Unbound. Crowd-funding is a model we've already seen working successfully in the music industry where popular bands and artists have been dropped by their labels for being unprofitable but have then bounced back with fan-funded albums. Marillion are a great case in point. Despite selling millions of albums, they were dropped. So their fans now pay for every new album and touring generates the rest of their income. They're free of corporate restraint and enjoy a relationship with their fans that is closer than most other bands enjoy. I helped fund the most recent albums by Emmy the Great and Jim Moray and they are wonderful. And that's the way I see publishing going in the future. There will come a point when authors choose this path as the desired path; Bestselling tweeter and author Mrs Stephen Fry has already taken the plunge this last week. And even though they'd have no problem getting a more traditional deal, Monty Python's Terry Jones and Red Dwarf's Robert Llewelyn have also gone with Unbound because they believe in it too. With this model of publishing, it's the readers who dictate what they want to read rather than the accountants offering only what they choose to publish. Subscription is how books used to be funded before the days of big publishing houses so there's no shame in returning to those roots. The quiet revolution has already begun.

This week, public sector workers will go on strike in an attempt to preserve their pensions. The Leveson Inquiry will continue to hear how corporate greed led certain newspapers and individuals to illegally invade people's privacy in order to sell papers. Bankers will be paid bonuses for helping to make big profits while people on the breadline will be charged £30 for going a quid or two overdrawn. Footballers and pop stars and other celebrities will earn millions - much of it from publishing deals. Meanwhile, in New York and London and other major cities, groups of ordinary, angry citizens will be spending another day camped on the streets to show their utter disgust at a culture where greed is good and the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.

Traditional publishing, it seems to me, has made the mistake of aligning itself with this philosophy. I would suggest that in doing so they are pushing their own tumbrel towards the gallows.