A few years later she purchased a desk-sized computerized word processor, to make writing and editing easier. It would be a decade before most kids grew up with computers in their homes.
My first "real" job, however, was 4 years later, working for George Lucas, who believed that technology applied to filmmaking would liberate it. He shared a vision of creative independence with his big-brotherish buddy, über geek Francis Coppola. They dreamed of being free from the yoke of the Hollywood studio system, not all that different from my parents wanting to be free from publishing industry baggage. In the '80s Lucas and Coppola pushed the vision, spending millions. I became an expert on the introduction of computer workstations into filmmaking, for editing, sound, graphics, and so on. Steve Jobs understood this perhaps better than anyone, but as Moore's Law dragged down the cost of the technology (and improved its power), growing numbers of people could afford these tools. It was Lucas who imagined (in 1970) that someday every kid would have access to a camera and editing system, and wondered what that would do to our culture; but it was Jobs who delivered it.I wrote a textbook in 1991 to help introduce the established movie and television industries to the computers, tools and concepts that would revolutionize them. Its title, "Nonlinear" helped coin the term for the new type of editing systems being introduced. Like my father's Optics, it was an industry-wide best-seller and I produced four versions over the next 15 years.
---
Once the tools of production were liberated -- for making movies, writing songs, publishing books, and so on -- digital tools got integrated into established production chains. You'd use an Avid to edit a movie, or build a book in InDesign, but you still released in theaters or sold in Borders. It's a new phenomenon that the tools of distribution are also being liberated. These things always start sort of crappy compared with established methods. And the Establishment is always quick to point out their (very real) failings. But as with all disruptions, they move too slow to keep up with the technological improvements which render these failings obsolete. They never catch up.
I watched YouTube emerge from the swamp of lousy web video sites, and like an Avid in 1990, it hardly seemed viable through all its limitations. Netflix was approaching the problem from a different angle. I watched Netflix closely as it formed. I joined at the end of 2005; they weren't in the DVD business, but in the distribution revolution surrounding movies (and any long-form narrative content). This was the last piece of the dream that Lucas had infected me with. I had been so caught up in democratizing the production tools, I had almost forgotten about the liberation of the distribution channels.
Which brings us to today. After publishing Danny's Groundhog Day book, and revisiting Droidmaker on the Kindle, Nook and iPad (and their respective public stores where individuals can sell books) I recognize these as the somewhat crappy first versions of the future of publishing. For the next few years these devices will get increasingly good at reproducing the features of printed books that makes them highly legible and useful, as well as add features a physical book could never do (hyperlinks, video, etc.). They'll co-exist with bookstores. Until suddenly (whether you like it or not) bookstores will go away.
As they say, it's groundhog day all over again... there is a terrific market opportunity just starting to 'hockey stick' as books are liberated. There will be about five years of converting publisher's old titles (to get every old book accessible in the new medium -- just as happened when CDs and then DVDs were invented); there will be tons of new talent who need to learn about new publishing tools as well as understand what old publishers have learned. It will involve skill sets that book compositors have never had to understand -- about user experience (UX) and usability. And a new breed of authors will rise up who might never have published in the old world. Yes... yes... much crap will be created, and tools will be necessary to sort through the crap to find the rare gems.
Blogging was the first step. Content that a decade earlier would have been "self published" was able to show up online. Webpage ads create the possibility of meaningful revenue, although only for a very few (each web reader generates but a few pennies in most cases)... and few individuals are set up to manage a subscription business... but by allowing the creators to self-package their content and sell it directly -- generating dollars, not pennies -- their target audiences can potentially support their efforts.
Besides creative freedom, the best argument for self-publishing is economic: in rough numbers, an author might make $1 for every book sold through The Establishment. Self publish a book and you might make five to 10 times that per book. If the audience is niche enough, and you have a realistic idea of how to reach them, then it might be worth the financial risk. It's a small start-up!
For decades, self-publishing was akin to vanity publishing, where somewhat nefarious publishers would take advantage of the ego-driven author who needed a physical book in hand, even if it couldn't be sold. It was sort of like the Who's Who ego publishing scheme ("you've been listed in this distinctive important book -- would you like to buy a bunch?"). But real self-publishing is just blogging with a different monetization path. And knowing something about traditional publishing tends to help, although not completely. I'm sure that traditional publishers are going to move more slowly than you can imagine. So the opportunity is now. As Steve Spielberg said in 1982, the first time he sat down at a high powered computer and drew photorealistically on the screen, "it's a great time to be alive."
Doesn't everyone love the combination of creative freedom and market opportunity?
