Archive for the ‘copyright thoughts’ Category

Kindle read-a-loud?

Thursday, February 26th, 2009

Reminder: One more day to enter the Miranda Neville giveaway!

Apparently, there is a big kerfuffle originating from Author’s Guild about whether the Kindle 2.0′s “read aloud” feature is an infringement of an author’s right to dramatize a performance.  A few days ago, Roy Blount, the president of Author’s Guild, even wrote an editorial in the New York Times bewailing the Kindle for precisely that reason.

I think Blount’s facts are right, but his conclusion is wrong.  I agree with Blount that in a decade or two computer-generated voices will be pretty good.  (I doubt they’ll ever be as good as a human-read voice, at least not in my lifetime–and the fact that IBM can generate a reasonable replica of a speaking voice today bothers me not at all.  Yes, maybe–the applicability of IBM’s voice is perhaps to mimic a human reading a tech-support script, not to read with any sort of dramatic flair).  I don’t doubt that computer-generated voices will improve substantially in the years to come.

But let’s suppose that everything Blount says is true: computer-generated voices will one day totally replace audio recordings.  Okay, I’m thinking about that.  And I think  . . . well, that’s too bad.  But I still don’t think that a computer reading aloud, to a private person, is any different than a computer showing words on a screen, or a person reading aloud in a private setting.  It’s just a different kind of screen, or a different kind of reader.

More importantly, I think this is just one of the breaks of technology.  Technology isn’t bad or good, but it does sometimes render revenue streams obsolete.  Conversely, it sometimes creates markets that did not exist (or deletes competitive markets).  A person with a Kindle 2.0 can have a file read aloud–something they wouldn’t be able to do with a regular book.  But a person with a regular book has the right to resell their book to a third party, no matter what the original seller of the book may desire.  And you can resell a book that you buy for your Kindle . . . oh wait.  You can’t.  You can’t even lend your to a friend.  Score one for the mass-market paperback.

I don’t see Author’s Guild getting upset about the disappearance of the doctrine of first sale.  I didn’t see them getting angry about eBook technology so restrictive that it did not allow people to even copy and paste minute sections, consistent with the terms of fair use.  I don’t see them caring, not one bit, about the fact that the vast majority of eBook formats eradicate a user’s right to space- and sometimes even time-shift copyrighted works.

Now, it is not the Author’s Guild responsiblity to advocate for readers.  But technology, including the Kindle, has taken rights away from the reader, and has put money in the pocket of the author by so doing.  I don’t like to think that authors love technology everytime it takes something from readers that they already had, but hate it when it gives something to readers that they didn’t have.

Of all the things that worry me about the future of publishing, and about my future in publishing particularly–diminishing distribution for new and midlist authors; the possibility that an entire retail outlet could disappear by the time my debut novel hits shelves;  a returns system that leaves royalties in a state of unsettlement for years; the capacity for widespread and unchecked copyright infringement through offshore servers–the fact that the Kindle now does what computers have been doing for over a decade is an item of nonexistent priority on my list of things to angst about.

Fear of free?

Sunday, February 22nd, 2009

Over on Dear Author, Jane posted about how different industries had responded to the notion of “free content” and adapted to monetize different revenue streams.  It’s an extremely thoughtful contribution that is part of a very interesting conversation in the digital world.

I think this discussion is fascinating because I think the book industry  has already come up with clever monetization strategies.  I don’t think they have to do all that much switching around to get something to work.

Take for instance, the phenomenon of hard cover/trade release followed by a mass market release somewhat later.  This isn’t really much more than an attempt to capitalize on different revenue streams.  There’s a higher margin on hard cover, so you release that first–and the fans, the people who cannot conceive of waiting even one week, let alone one year, to purchase rush out and buy.  But there’s a group of people who sit in the wings, shaking their heads, unwilling to pay $25 for the privilege of reading Big Name Author in hardcover.  A year later, you push out the mass market release, and you capture the revenue from people that pay $7 standing in line.  In other words, I think that the fundamental reason that different formats exist is not because some people have a preference for hard cover over mass market (although this is certainly true) or because people “value” hard covers over mass market (although some people do).  The format difference exists because publishers want to practice price discrimination.

Price discrimination is not a bad thing.  Price discrimination is why airline flights cost more if you don’t stay over a Saturday (the airline assumes that if you are not staying over on Saturday, you may be a business traveler and thus may have more money to expend on the flight).  It’s an attempt to get people who want an item enough to pay more money for it to choke up the extra bucks that they had in mind.

As a new author–at least, as a new author in genre fiction–you’re unlikely to get slotted into the hardcover market, simply because you don’t have enough fans willing to pay the premium.  So what do they do?  They use the mass market release to seed the market.  Enough of those, and maybe, 10 or 20 books down the line, they’ll start pushing you into hardcover.  Or you can see the same thing with the anthology/mass market release–they release a new author in an anthology with a few big names.  The price of buying that new author is thus reduced (the purchaser may, mentally, be willing to pay $4.99 for the short story from the Big Name Author; in her mind, she allocates the extra $2 to the authors that are new to her), with the hopes that this will bring in fans willing to pay the full price for a mass market release.

Price discrimination through different formats, and using lower prices to hook fans, is not anything new to the industry.

Now, this is all germane to the question of free.  The question that I think we have to answer as authors is not “how do we avoid free?” or “how will free change the industry?”  I think that the experiences of Napster and bittorrent, and the eventual dominance of iTunes, all point in one direction.

  1. Most people like convenience.
  2. Most people are happy to pay for content, at least in reasonable amounts.
  3. If the most convenient way to find content in a usable format is to access a forum run by pirates, convenience will trump people’s willingness to pay.  In other words, you have to make it easy for people to pay.

That’s the brilliance of iTunes (and, in a sense, of the Kindle).  You have to make it easy for people to pay.  In fact, you have to make it darned near seamless.

But there’s a second lesson to be learned.  Pirates are not going away.  No matter how hard I try or how much effort I expend, my book is going to be up on bittorrent.

And so this brings me to part 2:  I think authors need to own free content.  The model of “owning free” in my mind is the Baen Free Library, where Baen posts books, for free.  There’s no reason for anyone to pirate the books, because they’ll always be there, in that one spot.  There’s no reason for anyone to pirate the books, because they’re available in easy-to-read formats.   I don’t have to worry about a particular torrent closing down or a pirate site moving.  I always know where the free content is.

And what is the Baen Free Library?  It is a form of price discrimination–just like releasing in hard cover and then mass market.  If you want to read the author’s book as soon as it comes out, you pay the mass market price.  If you’re not so enthusiastic, wait a year . . . and it’ll show up for free.  Just like hard cover/mass market price discrimination, this means that the rabid fans get what they want, as soon as they want it, and they pay for it.

And this strategy starves the pirates.  Why would a regular schmoe bother to figure out the complexities of bittorrent when he knows he can get the real deal eventually, free, lawfully, from a source that never changes?

For most authors, a book makes the majority of its income in the first few years of its life.  For some authors, it makes all of its income within the first few months of its life.  (In fact, Harlequin is very savvy to give away books in its lines after they’re off the shelves–the revenue stream is essentially exhausted at that point, and the more people read, the more converts they have to their lines.)  Now, I understand that a backlist is still a tremendously valuable thing.  But what about out-of-print books?  If you’re an author and you have an out-of-print book sitting on your hard drive, there are reasons you might not want to release it for free–reasons like, you want people to place a value on your output, or you want to retain control.  I understand those reasons; I’m not sure I agree with them.  Why not put them up on your website for free?

I hear of authors who are willing to pay hundreds of dollars to enter their published books in contest after contest, on the theory that at least someone will be reading the book and they might reach readers that way.  Why be afraid of paying nothing to reach five hundred?  Ask people not to make copies–promise that it’ll stay on your website.  The worst thing that can happen is that people will read your book, and will want to read more of them.  And the truth is, I am just not sure that people see “available for free on the web” as synonymous with “not of value.”  After all, Pride and Prejudice is still in print, and you can find it everywhere.

In any event, at this point, I feel as if I have done enough talking about copyright and free stuff and haven’t done much doing.  Truth is, I’m still thinking about what to do.  Keep watching, and hopefully you’ll see more action from me.

Copyright and the blind reader

Wednesday, February 18th, 2009

So a few days ago I mentioned that I saw copyright less as a matter of moral prerogative, and more like a bargain with society.

A few days ago, there was a discussion on RWA’s PAN loop about Bookshare.  For those of you who don’t know, Bookshare is an organization that scans in books, performs optical character recognition, and produces a computer-generated reading of the text of the book.  There are two additional pieces of information you need to know.  First, Bookshare gives away the computer-generated reading–for free–without royalties to the author.  Second, it only gives away that reading to people who are either legally blind, or who have some other documented disability.

Upon discovering Bookshare, someone on the loop was upset.  Her take was that even though the service was offered for blind people, Bookshare was copyright infringement.  And while she might be willing to grant the right to reproduce her book to benefit the disabled, nobody had asked her.  I don’t want to blame that author or others who agreed with her; I think that response is perfectly understandable.

I don’t share it, though–and it’s precisely because I don’t think of copyright as my prerogative, but instead, as a bargain with society.  Copyright–the granting thereof, and the enforcement thereof–is expensive.  It costs society money.  The copyright office uses taxpayer dollars.  The courts use even more taxpayer dollars.  It costs society in the form of legislation enacted to help prevent copyright infringement (for instance the Digital Millenium Copyright Act), which may lead to over-enforcement in some cases.  So why should society spend all that money, time, and effort?

The answer is, because it gets something back in return.  In return for recognizing my copyright for a limited time, after the time is over, society owns my work–I don’t.  (I’ll be dead then, but hey.)  In return for recognizing my copyright for a limited time, society gets the right to make fair use of my work–to parody my work or to quote selected portions for review and criticism or just for fun.

Also, it turns out that in return for recognizing my copyright for a limited time, if I publish my work, society gets the right to make copies available to the blind.  For free.  Without paying me a dime or asking for permission.  Don’t believe me?  Check this out.

If you think about this law, it makes sense.  It takes a lot of effort to transform a print book into a blind-accessible copy, and the market for such items is both very, very small, and not particularly wealthy.  If they couldn’t make copies for free, and provide those copies through volunteer work, blind people would have an extremely tiny reading library.  Almost none of those books would be romance novels.  Blind people would either have to choose between not reading, a truly horrible option, or looking for books they could read in violation of copyright.  In my mind, Congress’s decision to allow these people an option to read widely, without violating copyright law, engenders respect for an author’s copyright and for the rule of law generally.  Good laws don’t make people want to break them.

But it only makes sense if you see copyright as an author’s bargain with society, not as a matter of an author’s inalienable right.

Copyright, Part III

Monday, February 16th, 2009

But Courtney, someone somewhere is saying, you are an author.  You make money on intellectual property.  Don’t you favor strong intellectual property regimes?  Don’t you know that intellectual property is in crisis?

Yeah, piracy sucks.  And like I said, pirates are assholes.  But . . . if I live the average life expectancy, I will get eleventy-one more years of copyright protection for my book.  So heftier protections–a larger scope of copyright protection, or a longer term of copyright–is not really going to help with the main problem.  Pirates exist because people are assholes.  If people are assholes, in violation of the law, it’s hard to come up with a law that stops them from being assholes.  Not unless you want to go way draconian, and writing books and publishing should be fun, not a second invention of the Spanish inquisition.

We don’t need stronger copyright laws.  We need stronger social norms against being an asshole–and that means that you can’t go grabbing everything you can get.

Let’s go back to my playground analogy.  People are more likely to respect your claim to have a soccer ball at recess if your claim is reasonable: say, for ten minutes, or for half of recess, or maybe if you are playing with a large group, for all of recess.  But if you say, “Anyone who gets the soccer ball gets it for a month,” the social norm of respecting the first possessor of the ball as the putative owner for some duration is going to fade real fast.

If you don’t want people to be assholes, you shouldn’t be an asshole yourself.  And I think that pushing for more and more copyright protection–long past the point of commercial value for 99% of the copyrights out there–is a purely asshole move.  Don’t want people to be assholes?  Don’t be an asshole yourself.

Copyright, Part II

Thursday, February 12th, 2009

I think maybe one of the reasons I don’t see eye-to-eye with other people about copyright is that I don’t see copyright as protecting something that is morally mine.  Yes, I wrote my book.  Yes, I sweated blood over it.  But I wouldn’t have been able to write the book I did if I hadn’t read so voraciously, and the books I read shaped me.  It’s kind of a gestalt peer-review process of fiction: the writer I am stands on the shoulders of the writers I have read.

And so I see copyright as a way to help authors make enough money so that they can write a little bit more (or, um, promote her book so that anyone reads it at all).  It’s not a moral thing; it’s a manners thing.  (Not plagiarism, though–plagiarism and copyright infringement are distinct, and plagiarism is morally abhorrent.)

I’m not sure this makes any sense, but I see copyright as kind of my bargain with society:  You guys recognize that I did something cool, and when I’m done with my toys over here, I’ll pack them up in a nice box and let everyone else play with them.  That’s it.  Copyright infringement, in my mind, is like taking a soccer ball from someone else on the playground–if someone else took possession of the ball first, they should get to use it first that recess.  Taking the ball away from someone who claimed it first is a complete asshole move–but it’s not the same thing as stealing.  It’s just being an asshole.

Copyright, like a soccer ball at recess, has a time limit.

I recognize that this is a minority view.

How Long is too Long?

Friday, February 6th, 2009

So, here’s a moral dilemma.  I mean, it’s not a dilemma.  It is more like a little bit of moral tension.

I have some very strong views on copyright.  Or, to put it differently:  I have very strong views on the strength of copyright.  I think, among other things, that the term of copyright granted in our society is way too long.  I think, among other things, that fan fiction should be unambiguously allowed.  If I had my way, I’d set the term of copyright to the term of patents, or at most twice that:  twenty to forty years, max.  Possibly twenty years with an additional twenty year automatic extension, which must be applied for with a tiny (say $10) processing fee.

That is never, ever going to happen, so I think that the second-best thing is to contract around onerous copyright rules, e.g., through a Creative Commons license.

But I did just happen to sign a contract that gives HQN the rights to my copyright so long as my book remains in print, for the natural length of copyright.  I feel . . . very ambiguous about this.  I feel that it would be wrong–really wrong, and because I feel so strongly about copyright length, for me, downright morally hazardous–if one of my descendants were still making royalties off my book in a century.  And however much I still want my book to be on sale then (I know, dream on), it bothers me.

Ultimately, I had no problem signing the contract simply because I don’t think my book will be in print in 100 years, and my rights will revert to me, and I’ll probably release it into the public domain long before then, either by bequest or during my life–because once my book has lived out its time of commercial viability, I feel I have an obligation to release it into the public domain, even if technically the copyright has many decades to go.

What do you think of all this?  If you’re an author, do you feel like you have any interest at all in what happens to your books 100 years from now?  Does it bother you to think you can hold on to a piece of culture for a full century?


Courtney Milan’s Blog is proudly powered by WordPress
entries (RSS) and comments (RSS).
content © Courtney Milan, 2006-2009
author photo © Jovanka Novakovic | bauwerks.com
cover copyright © 2010 harlequin enterprises limited
cover art used by arrangement with harlequin enterprises limited. all rights reserved.
® and ™ are trademarks of harlequin enterprises limited and/or its affiliated companies, used under license
home \"home books \"books about \"about contact \"contact faqs \"faq articles \"articles