Are Books Doomed to Extinction?

We all know that the Media Guy loves his books. You remember books, right? Those heavy bound things with lots of paper for people with an attention span...

What is happening in the industry is as saddening as it is maddening. 
How do we change it all?

I recently ran into Michael Levin, founder and CEO of BusinessGhost, Inc. (www.BusinessGhost.com) who said that “Publishers must innovate to save the book as we know it.” Who is he you ask? His resume speaks for itself…author of more than 100 books, including eight national best-sellers; five that have been optioned for film or television. He’s co-written with Baseball Hall of Famer Dave Winfield, football broadcasting legend Pat Summerall, NBA star Doug Christie and Hollywood publicist Howard Bragman, among others.

With all that on his side of the ledger, he says he can see the writing on the iPad.

“Unless something changes, books as we know them are doomed, and not simply because people prefer to read on their iPads or Kindles.” says Levin. “You’ll see the major publishing houses starting to go away in three to five years,” Levin says. “Their business model is in free fall. Already, we’re seeing books becoming shorter, cheaper, and diminishing in quality. You’ll soon see fewer really good authors bothering to write books, because books are no longer a meaningful source of revenue.”

Levin points to several developments he says foreshadow a sad ending for books:

• Attention spans are diminishing. Three-fourths of teachers said their students’ attention spans are shorter than ever, according to a poll released in June. By 11 years old, nearly half of the kids had stopped reading for pleasure. The poll, by publisher Pearson UK, is just the most recent survey/study documenting shrinking attention spans and a corresponding drift from books. “Part of the problem is children don’t see their parents reading,” Levin says. “Obviously, the kids’ aren’t the only ones with diminishing attention spans.”

• Major publishers are producing lower-quality books. The big publishing houses today are more interested in a quality marketing plan than in the quality of the book, so we’re being deluged by low-quality books. One reason is that many large publishers have stopped taking on the expense of marketing books, but they know it’s necessary for sales. So they take on authors with a marketing plan and budget. They’re also less interested in “star” authors, who demand higher royalties. They also lost authors when they eliminated advances in response to the 2008 recession.

• Books are moving to devices, where content is free and time is thin-sliced. Online, you don’t expect to pay for content. People will expect books available online to be either free or very inexpensive, and if those books turn out to be one chapter of ideas and eleven chapters of Hamburger Helper, they will be less willing to pay for them. Also, people don’t spend much time going into depth online; books are supremely inappropriate for the surface-skimming nature of the Internet. Once people have bought a bunch of ebooks they’ve never started, they’ll stop buying them altogether.

• Authors have a more difficult time earning a livable wage. Fewer authors can earn enough to make writing a full-time job. The audience is shrinking and fewer people are willing to pay $15 for a paper book when cheap alternatives are available. “We’ve already seen more books written to promote a product, service or company, or to brand the writer so he or she can pursue a more lucrative field,” Levin says. “Most books of the future will be marketing tools, since that’s the only way they’ll be profitable.”

He does find reason for hope, but it will require publishers to change how they do business.

“They need to stop trying to go after the mass market, which doesn’t exist anymore, settle on a niche and develop a brand. Publishers that stand for something in the reader’s mind – like Harlequin stands for romance – are built for the long haul,” he says.

Instead of publishing 500 low-quality books every year, major publishers should bring out only 50 top-quality winners and actually market them, he says. And publish how-to and other guidance and instructional books in concentrated form: short, powerful and to the point,

The rest of us have a job to do, too, Levin adds.

“People need to read, and they need to read to their kids or buy them books. If people stop demanding good books, there eventually will be none available,” he says. “The winners, going forward, will be that minority who still read and think for themselves. It’s a lot easier for government, the military, and the corporate world to control the way people think if they aren’t reading for themselves. That ought to be reason enough to save the book.”

Tangentmakers and the Dreaded Key Card

Okay, so where am I?

As always, my client looked a little cross-eyed after five-and-a-half hours of SEO, PPC and CRM

Who knows what evil lurks inside the plastic hell?

talk. Marketing buzz words layered with endless rationale will do that. Shoot, hearing about website analytics will bore the best of us, but this is what pays bills and clients usually go with your gut feeling as long as you have your act together backed by this boring details. Life can’t always be chatting with movie stars, Miss USA’s and football owners. The routine, perfected after thousands of cycles and repetitions, is what makes guarantees success.

So there I was in another nameless Eurasian five-star hotel after wrapping the meeting ready to curl up with Tropic of Cancer and a vodka martini. This is the recipe for relaxation on the road. Eyes half open, I wander out of the lobby and up to the 29th floor, checking every pocket – that’s ten pockets in all counting the blazer and the slacks – for the hotel key card. Find the card, get to the door and BAM! What happens? That little red light flashes on the brass door handle mocking you that once again she’s not going to open.

Outside of the cancelled or delayed flight, is there any bigger routine killer than the key card that refuses to open the hotel room door?

Ah, the dreaded hotel key card. The nemesis of any traveler.

The master of disaster.

Plastic from hell.

Are you kidding me? It’s not even a key. It’s a hunk of plastic.

I mean really, is there anything worse than your key card inexplicably pulling up a red light? That red light only means one thing: you have to drag yourself back down to the reception desk to get a new one.

Eurasian keys are still keys in every sense...

Now, the Media Guy isn’t violent, but at the end of a long day of meetings or even a long day of exploring ruins in the middle of Timbuktu, the last thing you want is a delay getting back to your room for a hot shower and some room service. It’s at that moment you say to yourself, whoever invented the hotel key card needs to be hunted down and shot. Yes, the hotel key card is the travel’s nightmare.

In this instance, I had a lot of time to reflect on the hotel key card as I embodied Mr. Toad during his Wild Ride attempting to get back to the front desk to get a new card. Wouldn’t it be my luck that the sixteenth floor had a massive water leak that pretty much soaked the whole floor and wiped out three of the four elevators?

...and wildly more reliable.

The stairs were closed so there I waited, zipping through my iPhone, sending out news releases and trying not to overly eavesdrop on the couple ten paces away. It was obvious they were feuding long before my personal crisis started, yet their conversation was enthralling with an equal mix of business and displeasure. This was a whole lot better than Tropic of Cancer and, believe it or not, a whole lot sexier.

The couple was tucked into the corner of the elevator banks next to the faux Tiffany lamp acting like they wanted to be discreet, yet too angry to worry about it. They were something out of Abercrombie &; Fitch. Wildly attractive, young and fit with an edge that only comes with youth.

“F*#% you Steve, ok? F*#% you!” she said. “Why do you constantly pull that s*#%? Honestly, I can’t understand you!”

“What is your deal? Understand me? I never get why you act like this,” Steve replied.

“You’re so f*#%ing dumb Steve seriously. I’m so done with you.”

“Oh we’re done because care about you? You’re I’m just supposed to disregard it all? I was worried about you ok?”

“So you call my f*#%ing boss? You’re acting jealous stupid! What business do you have calling my boss and telling him about my side projects?”

Yep, this looked like Steve and his girlfriend.

“I didn’t call him to tell him about you, we’re in the middle of nowhere and you disappeared.  I called him to see if he knew where you were. I was worried about you baby.”

“Don’t f*#%ing call me baby or honey bear or any of that crap do you understand me? If you call me that crap again I’m going to smack you,” the girl said. “Don’t worry about ‘your baby’…where's my journal with my presentation for tomorrow?”

That’s when the room got silent. Steve was speechless about the journal question. As I stared endlessly at the down arrow in the elevator, I kept thinking that this would definitely get more fascinating before it got less. I opted to shut up and let it all flow. My old boss at the Pool Company used to say once that once the meeting went off on a tangent “to ride the flow” and gather in all of the information they tangentmakers were willing to give out without being prompted. This is where loose lips sink ships so to say. When emotions are out of control, people are apt to say anything. These were wise words and over my career I’ve gained a tremendous amount of knowledge just be absorbing the room. Sponge it all in.

By the time he stammered around searching for an answer that would please her, you could tell panic had set in. Have you ever been really grilled by a boss or significant other and didn’t have an answer? You know, where your face turns clammy pale and the beads of sweat pool your forehead crinkles? Well, that was Steve.

 Steve pulled out his phone and started punching buttons.

“What are you doing Steve? I asked you a question. What are you doing? You’d better not be trying to question my boss anymore. He’s only supposed to know that I am here for the modeling assignment.”

“I just wanted to call the restaurant and see if I left my carrier bag there,” Steve said.

“Are you f*#%ing stupid Steve? You had my journal in there and you left it somewhere?”

And that’s when it happened. She picked up that fake Tiffany lamp and hurled it at his head. It was lying in slow motion I swear. It smacked the wall with a ringing the most perfect crackle of glass a fit of rage ever produces. It was perfect, yet I don’t know how she was managed to miss him. Maybe it was because she was a lefty.

That’s when she stared him down. “I don’t want you to talk Steve! Understand this: you better get out a pen and write down everything I tell you before I forget everything that was in my journal, you f*#%er!”

What followed was dissertation on advertising that would have made a professor blush with the mere fact that when compared to her, most media experts don’t know anything. I even found myself talking mental notes on her brilliant verbal essay. The funny thing is that during her information dump, every twenty words or so she was punctuate her sentences with a “F*#%” or would call poor Steve a “douchebag.” Try as I might, I couldn’t help but snicker every time she said “douche.” There’s something about a guy going all Mike Tyson silent as if Robin Givens is being interviewed by Barbara Walters and her calling him names throughout. 

Anyway, they were so far gone into the zone that I was completely invisible. I could have been dancing naked around them and she still would be forcing to be him to take down every word.

At this point I was praying that the elevator wouldn't come. I was learning too much. And just like that, the cussing ending and they were lip-locked. I mean really going at…Cinemax Style. Just as I wondered how the dreaded key card dropped me into this surrealism, the elevator arrived and Steve immediately looked up and said, “I apologize about my crazy girlfriend.”

The instant he said that, she started screaming at me, “F*#%-you-no-tie-suit-guy! You’re just a f*#%ing douche too.” I laughed and walking into the crowded elevator just as they started kissing again.

We started our gradual descent as they four ladies snickered [in the same manner I did when she was calling Steve a douche] in what was about to be a total retreat from my previous ten minutes. My four passengers / new friends shared stories of their own hotel stories waits and dreaded key cards. In no time the conversation turned to the brilliant media model / psychotic girlfriend's antics.

“Were you trying to be the third person into that mess?” the audacious one in the group finally piped in.

“Don’t let that girl scare you, I’m just a simple Media Guy, I promise.”

“What was her problem?”

I told her that this is what occurs when you mix a little bit drunk, and dash of brilliance and a whole lot of crazy together. Weird Happens!

With that we all shared the bond of strange humor as the elevator reached the lobby and the line for new key cards was thirty deep.

Ah, new friends, power of riding the flow and tangentmakers.

Setting Up Shop in Paradise

From the forthcoming book: Landscapes of  Life.

I love my work, but I'd wager a lot that this Media Guy has said, "I need a vacation...STAT!" more often than I care to admit.

Last week I recalled the last time I was at the Aruba airport. I took an Insta-Poll with a throng of  tourists returning to Anytown, USA. It seemed that everyone was lamenting the same thing: how on Earth did I make the choice to live in ____________? (Fill in the blank yourself as the cities ranged from Boston to Houston to Des Moines.) The universal them was "why couldn't I live in paradise?"

That got me thinking. Why can't the Media Guy open an office in Waikiki? After all, resort towns offer opportunity after opportunity to entrepreneurs and the self-employed. Service professionals (NO! not those kind of service professionals! I mean journalists, doctors, plumbers, consultants,etc.) can all earn a cozy living in the most desirable tourist hot-spots around the globe.

That's when I reached out to John Berglund who was once a chief county prosecutor and then transitioned into a lobbyist and trade-association executive. At the end, he left the “rat race” for his Caribbean perfumery in St. Martin. Ah, paradise.

Dreams come true, but not through wishful thinking, says John Berglund, a corporate executive turned “flip-flop perfumer.”After successful careers as an attorney, lobbyist, trade-association executive and bowling industry magnate, Berglund tired of the corporate rat race.  He was also tired of winters bundled in layers of long johns, shoveling snow.

“Everybody has their own version of paradise,” says the author of A Beach Less Traveled: From Corporate Chaos to Flip-Flop Perfumer (www.abeachlesstraveled.com). “Whether it’s New York City, the Great Smokey Mountains or my personal favorite, the French-Caribbean island of St. Martin, paradise is within reach – with a little planning.”

An essential part of that was deciding what to do for a living once he got there. Berglund would embark on his new career path as a perfumer with his wife of more than 30 years, Cyndi. How did he do it? He shares the strategies that worked – and some that didn't.

• Dream big … and do it: Berglund remembers sunning on a pristine beach with his wife, listening to the gentle sounds of wind and turquoise seawater lapping on the shore. When Cyndi heard him order an adult beverage in French, she shook his arm to wake him for the morning commute to work … in the dead of winter in Wisconsin. He was dreaming – literally. “I’d always had a high standard of living, which I’ve enjoyed, but it was time for me to risk a completely foreign scenario – in terms of business and lifestyle – and follow this dream.”

• Business trends: Boutique perfumeries are where boutique wineries were three decades ago – they’re personal, fun and interactive, Berglund says. They’re not just about walking into a store and choosing a bottle from a shelf. He offers his customers a hands-on experience customizing their scents, and by using local ingredients, he offers visitors a meaningful souvenir of their stay. Berglund envisions his new business as a model at several vacation destinations.

• Fortitude amid real-world challenges: A dream is the spark to the journey, but moving to St. Martin, where the natives speak French and Dutch, and starting a business takes work. The hurdles for Berglund included the search for property, anxiety on closing the property deal, remodeling, acclimating to life there, obtaining a business license, moving and the language barrier. “These problems may be deal-breakers for many people, but part of the excitement of doing anything worthwhile is the fact that it’s not easy,” he says.

• A history of business sense: Creating an unprecedented cottage industry may seem like a long shot layered in wishful thinking. “But this isn’t my first rodeo,” Berglund says. “I’ve made several career moves throughout my life, and no matter how unlikely, I always came out okay.” He acknowledges, however, that he was in the right phase of his life to pull off such a change. Plan and prepare so you’re ready for change, he says. Risk is involved.

• Loved ones: Even though Berglund’s children were grown and he was capable of achieving his dream, he needed to make sure Cyndi was on board. “You can do all the planning and troubleshooting that is necessary for a dream to work, but the one thing that can change the minds of the most passionate is the opposition of a loved one,” he says. “It’s worth a discussion with your family early in the planning process.”    

So lesson learned...when your return flight comes calling on your next vacation, you may want to consider turning your paradise into a new way of life.