Tag Archives: publishing

Book sense

Do you ISBN?

If yes, it will cost you.

A friend has a book close to publication, and today she purchased her ISBN — International Standard Book Number — that you see pictured above. This 13-digit number identifies the author, title, edition and format being printed. Publishers, booksellers, and libraries use it for ordering, listing, sales records and inventory control.

That’s all fine and dandy.

But having writers pay for the identifying number assigned to their book would be like me having to pay for my Social Security number.  Or the passwords I use to access the many accounts in my life.  Or the name tag they give me at ComicCon.

Wait.  I guess I essentially do pay for all those things.

Sorry, Tina.  I tried.

Audience first

A former colleague announced today on Facebook this he has created a book of his tweets.

He uses the app that posts the identical status update to Facebook and Twitter.  They are usually sentence fragments with hashtags and links to related content — very Twitter-friendly, but I’m not sure how they will translate to the printed page.  Will they be as rich in meaning outside of their original Internet home?

I find those tweets jarring even on Facebook, where hashtags have no relevance, since they are meant to help Twitter users find related content easily.

It all goes back to putting your audience first when you write….and I would argue that posting the same status update to Facebook and Twitter doesn’t.  I know everyone who follows me on Facebook; I certainly can’t say that about Twitter, so I treat the two audiences differently.

And if I were going to write a book based on my Facebook status updates or Twitter posts, I would use them simply as inspiration.  The medium is different, so I think you should use different language.

Let’s face it — my reader can’t click a link or follow a hashtag in a book.  And if they are nice enough to read my stuff, I certainly won’t bother them with ‘em.

Lower still

Oh, the tabloid media.  They’ll do just about anything to sell magazines.

Just ask Tiger Woods.

And now the more legitimate press is getting in on the action…if you want to include Vanity Fair under that umbrella.

TMZ.com and ‘Access Hollywood’ may have brought us photos of Tiger’s crashed car and collected the names of his ever-growing stable of mistresses, but Vanity Fair ‘got the get’ we’ve all been waiting for –

Tiger’s naked chest.

True, it’s not a photo related to the scandal.  (I don’t think anyone got a shot of his bloodied lip following the car crash, gosh darn it.)  And the Vanity Fair photo spread was snapped long before any of this ugliness took place.  But at least it was taken by celebrity photographer Annie Leibovitz, which means the photos are excellent, even if they aren’t really pertinent.

But Vanity Fair is going to make them seem that way.

The article itself?  Pure conjecture.  An interesting comparison between Tiger’s handling of the scandal and George Clooney’s character in the movie “Up in the Air.”  But no interview with Tiger.  No new details about the situation or his future on the tour.

Vanity Fair, you’ve done the tabloids proud.

Puparazzi

I read all the celebrity rags — and I certainly hope they read me — because today I am throwing a HUGE scoop their way.

It’s not an actual story, but it is the must-have tool to getting those major headlines they so highly covet.

It’s a dog.

I have discovered that, if Rory is with me, or if I am discussing him with another dog owner, they are willing to spill all kinds of personal information at the drop of the hat.  I don’t have to ask; I don’t have to care; I don’t even have to want to know.

It just pours out of them.  It’s like they have no control.

Take this morning, for instance.  My dog Rory and I were returning from our morning walk in Central Park with my sister who is visiting from Oregon.  We stopped to chat on the street with a woman who was walking her maltese/poodle mix puppy.

The conversation began innocently enough — what kind of dogs, how old, names, etc.  And then it started. Her former dog was a poodle who lived to be 17 years old…before it drowned in her pool…and she’s living with the guilt.

Oh. My. God.  Who tells that kind of story…to anyone, let alone a total stranger on the street??

Or there’s the lady on the airplane who, when we were swapping dog owner stories mid-flight, suddenly asked for my advice on the best time to dump her live-in boyfriend — before or after the holidays?

(Perhaps crate training gives me a unique perspective.)

Celebrity press, take note.  Paparazzi, paws to consider.  Reporters with dogs on leash will get far juicer stories from the famous people you ‘hound’ on a daily basis.

Woof.