The Publishing Game
Ten months and countless hours later, I’ve finished my book. There are still a round (or two?) of edits to be made, but the bulk of the writing is finished. It’ll be in stores in October. I’m looking forward to when I’ll be able to post an Amazon URL here. :-) Perhaps unsurprisingly, I still can’t seem to summon the energy to write a long and thoughtful blog post about, well, anything right now. All I really want to do is work in my garden and hang out with long-neglected friends and family. However, this experience has taught me a few things which I think are relevant to Arcade games (not just books) and which I’d like to share while the memories are still fresh: From what I’ve gathered, less than 1% of published books turn out to be hits. The odds for a first-time author (who isn’t a big name, like Bill Clinton or Alan Greenspan) are so incredibly low that even if your publisher loves your book, your marketing/sales forecast is unlikely to exceed 20k copies at best. At that level, it simply doesn’t make sense for the publisher to do much in the way of marketing until the book has already proven itself. Even though the Arcade console game space isn’t nearly that tough, there are parallels. After all, because of the economics of the Arcade space today, most publishers aren’t willing to spend more than $100k on marketing their games (and usually far less than that.) |
I’m sorry I’ve been posting less frequently than usual, but I’ve been devoting every minute outside of Microsoft to finishing my book, which is due to the publisher in 10 days (!!) It turns out that writing a book is a lot like developing a video game — i.e., you can never have too much polish. Ethan and I have revised each chapter as few as 6 times and as many as 24, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. All I can say is, thank goodness for deadlines. Otherwise, I might be obsessing over every word five years from now.
When this is over, I’m going to spend the summer totally decompressing. Do some travelling. Play some of my favorite old video games. Buy some new board games. Do some gardening (I thought I’d start this weekend, but I don’t have time and even if I did, it’s snowing outside. Yeah, in late April. I took some pictures, but then I realized that they were just going to make me angry. California is sounding better ever day.)
Oh, and I think my family — and most especially my wife — justifiably expects a serious make-good. How exactly does one go about compensating for six months of consistent neglect?
PS. The photo is of my backyard cherry tree, pre-snow. It was a lovely Spring for a few days. :-)








