Remaindered
Jun. 10th, 2004 11:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pjthompsonOver the weekend I decided to go to Trader Joe's—a wonderful, mostly-West Coast alternative market chain. I've been hungering for real English cheddar, not the crappy bland version you get in the ol' USA. English cheddar has such a subtle range of flavor and having eaten quite a lot of it on my trip, the American stuff tastes a bit like cardboard to me these days. Anyway, Ann said I could get some of the real stuff at Trader Joe's, so off I hied me.
The particular TJ's I hied to is in a hyperthyroidized mini mall near LAX: not big enough to be a grown up mall, too big to be a baby mall, a middling mall. There used to be an interesting warehousey kind of store there called Westchester Faire which housed three floors of antiquers—shop after shop of purveyors of fine kitsch, mostly. Unfortunately, Westchester Faire tanked last year and all the kitsch had to find new homes in flea markets and swap meets elsewhere. But I noticed something else had taken over the building. There was no name out front, just "Giant Book Sale," but since the sign touting the sale was permanent, I guess that's the name of the joint.
"Hmm," I said and resolutely parked near TJ's. I got out of the car and headed towards TJ's, but...It's like I was programmed at birth. Any time anyone says or I see the secret code word "book" it activates the computer chip in my brain. Try as I might to keep my feet headed towards TJ's entrance I kept veering off, until I finally just groaned and said, "Maybe I'll peek in here first." I never did make it to Trader Joe's.
It turns out it was one of those stores selling nothing but remaindered books—hardcovers ranging from $4 to $8, high end paperbacks for $3-$5, and low end paperbacks for only a buck or two. A lot of big names represented in that place, but I didn't feel so bad for them. So they didn't sell out on the 3rd or 4th hardcover printing of their blockbuster. It isn't going to kill their career to be remaindered. But then, there were a lot of midlist people represented there, too, folks who hadn't done so well on initial sales, or folks whose older novels, published after a moderate success with some other book, didn't do well. I got an uneasy tingle up my spine when I crossed paths with those, thinking how hopes rise so high when we get a publishing deal, thinking about all the hopes and dreams those books represented, how the world tends to level hope off rather brutally—a psychic stripmining sometimes.
But the ones that made me feel really bad were the ones that hadn't even made it to midlist and the self-publishing remainders, all the painfully obscure stuff that looked like it had been sitting in somebody's garage in boxes for awhile. It was like being confronted with the ghost of Christmas Future, I tell you. Which is one reason I'll never seek self-flagellation—er, I mean, self-publication. I just have this uneasy feeling anything I self-publish would turn into a garage-filler.
I kept looking at these things and thinking, "Didn't anyone ever tell these people that plot had been used 15,000 times? Didn't anyone say, 'Ooo, that title's way unfortunate'?" Of course they didn't, or those books would never exist. All their well-meaning friends told them it was the greatest thing since folded tortillas. Or, alternately, someone did tell them and they just believed so hard they didn't listen. They had utter faith in their project and weren't going to change it for any naysayer.
Belief is a shiny, bright thing with a sharp edge.
So when I got to the sff self-published paperback called Death Wears The Emperor's New Clothes I knew it was time to get the hell out of there. I was just too creeped out. So I took my purchases up to the cash register...
Yeah, that's right. Despite my whinging and philosophizing, I bought books there: an Alice Hoffman novel, a Graham Joyce novel, the classic sff novel Flatland, and one by an OWW ML member. I felt bad about buying that particular remainder because it won't do this member any good, but I bought it anyway. Hypocrite! If I'm really, really, really, really lucky maybe that member will be able to turn the tables on me some day. Because for me that's the ultimate lesson of a trip to a remaindered book store: these folks at least took a shot and got some kind of prize, even if it did turn out to have a hidden booby trap in the middle.
And on the personal writing front: Ramona has probably gone on hiatus for the time being. She wanted to go somewhere I didn't want her to go and it's been a power struggle all week. I know the fault lies with me, not her. I have to get my head around what she's trying to say—or more correctly, my heart. And I have a deep suspicion that the lesson she's trying to give me here has more to do with the Dos Lunas novel, Venus In Transit, then it does with the short story cycle I've been trying to complete. But whatever, the Dos Lunas cycle is probably not going to get done at this juncture until I can work through the Ramona block.
Ramona was my very first inhabitant of Dos Lunas county. She just wants me to know she isn't going to play second fiddle anymore. So I'll let her go on hiatus while I process and probably...start the rewrites for Shivery Bones next week.
The particular TJ's I hied to is in a hyperthyroidized mini mall near LAX: not big enough to be a grown up mall, too big to be a baby mall, a middling mall. There used to be an interesting warehousey kind of store there called Westchester Faire which housed three floors of antiquers—shop after shop of purveyors of fine kitsch, mostly. Unfortunately, Westchester Faire tanked last year and all the kitsch had to find new homes in flea markets and swap meets elsewhere. But I noticed something else had taken over the building. There was no name out front, just "Giant Book Sale," but since the sign touting the sale was permanent, I guess that's the name of the joint.
"Hmm," I said and resolutely parked near TJ's. I got out of the car and headed towards TJ's, but...It's like I was programmed at birth. Any time anyone says or I see the secret code word "book" it activates the computer chip in my brain. Try as I might to keep my feet headed towards TJ's entrance I kept veering off, until I finally just groaned and said, "Maybe I'll peek in here first." I never did make it to Trader Joe's.
It turns out it was one of those stores selling nothing but remaindered books—hardcovers ranging from $4 to $8, high end paperbacks for $3-$5, and low end paperbacks for only a buck or two. A lot of big names represented in that place, but I didn't feel so bad for them. So they didn't sell out on the 3rd or 4th hardcover printing of their blockbuster. It isn't going to kill their career to be remaindered. But then, there were a lot of midlist people represented there, too, folks who hadn't done so well on initial sales, or folks whose older novels, published after a moderate success with some other book, didn't do well. I got an uneasy tingle up my spine when I crossed paths with those, thinking how hopes rise so high when we get a publishing deal, thinking about all the hopes and dreams those books represented, how the world tends to level hope off rather brutally—a psychic stripmining sometimes.
But the ones that made me feel really bad were the ones that hadn't even made it to midlist and the self-publishing remainders, all the painfully obscure stuff that looked like it had been sitting in somebody's garage in boxes for awhile. It was like being confronted with the ghost of Christmas Future, I tell you. Which is one reason I'll never seek self-flagellation—er, I mean, self-publication. I just have this uneasy feeling anything I self-publish would turn into a garage-filler.
I kept looking at these things and thinking, "Didn't anyone ever tell these people that plot had been used 15,000 times? Didn't anyone say, 'Ooo, that title's way unfortunate'?" Of course they didn't, or those books would never exist. All their well-meaning friends told them it was the greatest thing since folded tortillas. Or, alternately, someone did tell them and they just believed so hard they didn't listen. They had utter faith in their project and weren't going to change it for any naysayer.
Belief is a shiny, bright thing with a sharp edge.
So when I got to the sff self-published paperback called Death Wears The Emperor's New Clothes I knew it was time to get the hell out of there. I was just too creeped out. So I took my purchases up to the cash register...
Yeah, that's right. Despite my whinging and philosophizing, I bought books there: an Alice Hoffman novel, a Graham Joyce novel, the classic sff novel Flatland, and one by an OWW ML member. I felt bad about buying that particular remainder because it won't do this member any good, but I bought it anyway. Hypocrite! If I'm really, really, really, really lucky maybe that member will be able to turn the tables on me some day. Because for me that's the ultimate lesson of a trip to a remaindered book store: these folks at least took a shot and got some kind of prize, even if it did turn out to have a hidden booby trap in the middle.
And on the personal writing front: Ramona has probably gone on hiatus for the time being. She wanted to go somewhere I didn't want her to go and it's been a power struggle all week. I know the fault lies with me, not her. I have to get my head around what she's trying to say—or more correctly, my heart. And I have a deep suspicion that the lesson she's trying to give me here has more to do with the Dos Lunas novel, Venus In Transit, then it does with the short story cycle I've been trying to complete. But whatever, the Dos Lunas cycle is probably not going to get done at this juncture until I can work through the Ramona block.
Ramona was my very first inhabitant of Dos Lunas county. She just wants me to know she isn't going to play second fiddle anymore. So I'll let her go on hiatus while I process and probably...start the rewrites for Shivery Bones next week.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-10 08:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-10 10:00 pm (UTC)For a kick-ass closeup shot of Venus transiting the sun, go here:
http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/astropix.html
Way cool.
As to the novel, Venus In Transit, by Ramona blocking the JK story arc, that novel may have bumped up into line as the next one for a Go. Of course, Simon Jellicoe has been talking to me all week, too. Isn't that always the way? When you're concentrating on something else, the other kids are saying, "Pay attention to me!"
no subject
Date: 2004-06-10 09:34 pm (UTC)And don't feel bad about buying the book on Remainder -- it's still something, right? I doubt the author would rather have one less reader.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-10 10:02 pm (UTC)Oh, I'm sure the author would like another reader, but if it was accompanied by money that would be even nicer. Which reminds me of my random quote of the day for today:
"I put everything into it--a piece of my soul. And now I'm going to trade it in for money!"
--Christopher Titus
no subject
Date: 2004-06-11 03:10 am (UTC)