Book panel at SXSW in Austin causes a stir.

A recent panel at SXSW gave way to a slightly bitter tussle between panel and audience members. Probably the most tension I've scene in a group of people coming together to talk about books. Usually it's shy voices from the back and the tinkling of water glasses. Not this time around. Take a look.



You're not alone, Frustrated Guy In The Blue Shirt. Caren Johnson today points out that, yes, there's a lot of negativity in the book world these days. In my opinion, the panelists were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Of course it's their job to defend their companies, but plenty within the publishing world are beginning to see the ultimate question that the brave audience member posed: What role, exactly, does the modern publisher play? With consumer confidence waning, how long will it be for the editorial reins of the Big Few are taken over by the grassroots nature of self-publishing?

It's a brain-buster. Too early for a clear answer, perhaps.

In my opinion, the changing nature of an agent's role is a sign of the changing times. Take my transition, for example. As a full-time agent I was stuck. I had to make money, had to keep the commissions rolling in. That meant capitulating to publishers' demands, since they are an agent's only buyers. Alternately, this means an agent is hounding himself daily to identify the next micro trend, or to keep up with industry gossip well enough to know that his client's novel about a family of four homeless people should be sent to that young editor who's been volunteering at a homeless shelter on the Lower East Side for the past three months. Or so-and-so just bought a house on the Cape, so be sure to send your political thriller about a Kennedy-like family his way.

It's a daunting, seemingly endless task. But this transition to capitulation versus trend-setting is nothing new in the publishing business. Editors went through the same throughout the 70s and 80s as corporations swallowed independents left and right. Suddenly Bertelsmann or Viacom wants its publishing arms to act as profitably as its film production or paper manufacturing divisions. Double-digit gains each year, too. Of course, as an artistic endeavor, publishing never historically relied on grand returns, instead hoping for just enough to keep the doors open and the literature flowing.

Should we be surprised that the public is finally catching on and calling out mainstream publishers for treating their readers the same as Kellogg's might treat the consumers of cereal?

Also, consider the rising status of self-publishing. Even two years ago agents and editors turned up their noses, quickly deleting or tossing away self-published manuscripts that arrived on their desks. The easy excuse: it's already published; why would I want to consider it?

Meanwhile, little by little while mainstream publishers kept at it, books like David Wong's JOHN DIES AT THE END garnered steady online audiences -- in his case, 70,000 readers absorbed his sprawling manuscript electronically. No surprise that Thomas Dunne Books called me up shortly after I'd offered Wong representation. They'll now publish JOHN DIES AT THE END with an initial print run of 50,000 (October 2010). Wong is the epitome of what might become a new trend -- editors looking outward and snapping up rights to work that authors have already made popular on their own.

In the meantime, I expect more tense conversation like these at writing conferences and literary events across the country. These panelists seem defensive but forthright -- they're not a writer's enemy in any way, but Blue Shirt's skepticism matches that of much I'm hearing in writing circles and within the big scary world of New York.