The fine folks at Finishing Line Press published my chapbook, A Visible Sign, a couple of years ago. As a part of the publication deal, I agreed to help Finishing Line drum up a certain number of presales. The press run of my chap was based on the number of presales. Of all literary ventures, chapbooks are most certainly a labor of love. I understood Finishing Line’s position on the presales. While many of my friends and family were supportive, a few writers and editors that I knew asked me why I chose to publish with a vanity press. I didn’t think of Finishing Line as a vanity press (and I still don’t). I helped fund the printing of my book by selling copies of it before it was printed. Thus, I contributed to its publication cost. Nonetheless, I didn’t think of my part as “paying out of my own pocket.” I thought that I was helping a wonderful literary press bring my work to a reading public. I saw myself as promoting literary publishing as much as I was selling my own book. As an author, I had a stake in my own publication.
The BlazeVOX decision, however, has less to do with literary publishing than it has to do with publishing at large. The truth is that the printed book is now having to compete with the electronic book. No longer mere novelties, electronic books are cheaper to produce and thus cheaper to sell. I own a Kindle, myself, and I’ve read a lot of novels on it (no poetry as of yet, though I’m not sure why). Like vinyl, printed books are quickly becoming the purview of collectors and specialists. I’m not going to prophesy the death of print (so many others already have), but I will say that in order to survive, printed books have to become more than merely a receptacle for words. Instead, the printed book itself is going to have to become a work of art.
Certainly, the book has a long history as an artifact. Illuminated manuscripts are merely one example. Handmade books in small press runs have been a part of publishing since before Gutenberg, and I believe that the small pressrun/handmade book might be one way that a publisher can distinguish its books and create a market for such books.
I’m impressed with Slash Pine Press, a publisher of small, limited-run handmade chapbooks. Their work makes the book itself as valuable as the text contained within. Their publications are more than a ink printed on a page. Their books are works of art. They design and create books that give value to the printed word in a way that a mass-produced book simply is incapable of doing.
I don’t want to give the impression that I hate large presses or despise large press runs. I’d love for my manuscript to picked up by a major press. I’d love to have a couple of printings of my books. However, I also think that as we move further into the 21st century, literary publishers are going to continue to face funding problems. Capitalistic supply/demand economics isn’t kind to literary publishing because American popular culture doesn’t value the very things that literary publishing champions: individuality, hard-won positions, questions, and writing that challenges more often than it entertains.
Ultimately, I close not knowing how exactly I feel about BlazeVOX. My sympathies are with any literary publisher. I don’t think that BlazeVOX is trying to take advantage of its authors. The press is doing what it can to stay afloat in a tough economy. I do sympathize, though, with those struggling writers trying to cobble together a life out of words. I understand the outrage when a poet finds that she must help fund the publication of her own book while so many seem to navigate the strange waters of literary publishing with ease. Perhaps instead of attacking BlazeVOX, however, writers and those invested in literary publishing might turn the lens back on themselves. If we’re not willing to support our art, who will?
1 I think that the term “vanity press” is loaded ideologically, and I shy away from it, but I use it here to make a point.