Life of db

So now Publishing’s at death’s door. Major houses stand on their last legs, no one’s reading, the world of words is set to implode. Or so they say.
But they’re wrong. The world of words is a-ok. It’s the old-timey business model that’s not going to cut it anymore. And as a writer, I couldn’t be happier.
What we’re seeing is the ascension of writer (Carver over Lish). Of course Publishing’s scared. They won’t be able to bait and switch a novel for a short story collection. They won’t be able to dictate terms to consumers. They won’t be able to remainder books after 90 days. But writers still need people. Most still need editors (If you don’t think you need one, it’s okay. You’ll mature.) and publicists and entourages and fashioners of bling.
Talented folks exist who know how to write but know fuck-all about anything else. And so I think we’ll see a fractured market made up of talented people doing niche work in the world of letters: folks who understand how to keep relationships. Folks who can take the rough-hewn constructs of some feral craftsman and turn it into salable furniture. Folks who know enough about logistics to get a neurotic, tweedy basket case through five mid-Atlantic cities during a modest book tour. That’s the future of publishing. Hell, that’s probably the future of everything.