Creative: Destination Print, Post One

Author’s Note: This is the first post in a ten-post series I was asked to write for Blurb. We ended up not using these posts, but I believe they are entirely valid and might be helpful to some of you.

I don’t make much effort to sell my books. Most of the publications I make are sample books that serve as roadmaps for others to follow. Want a coffee table-style photography book? Want a Zine?  Need a portfolio? Great, I’ve made several dozen for you to see. These might not be your final publication, but they at least guide the way by providing a basic structure for getting from A to B. Over the past fifteen years, during my still-running tenure at Blurb, I have spent a great deal of time around people trying to sell their books, and I know one thing for certain. The marketing of your book starts before you’ve made the content inside. The moment your idea becomes real, the marketing begins. If you print your book and then ask, “Now what?” you are in a tricky situation, and I rarely see these folks succeed. The ideal situation for any book seller is to have an audience waiting for the book the day it arrives.

The closest I’ve come to selling a high-volume book was my cross-brand zine collaboration AG23. Our mission statement was simple: “Promote understanding through dialogue and art.” We curated submissions based on a theme, then put the work in the hands of a world-class designer. Our idea was to distribute the zine for free. Readers paid $5 for shipping but received the zine at no cost. We printed 2,000 offset copies through Blurb’s Large Order Services division. Two weeks later, we were “sold out,” but this was no happy accident. This was a direct result of our marketing plan. We had a merchandise line, patches, stickers, letterhead with a wax stamp, a dedicated website, YouTube films featuring our contributors, and even did in-person events. (Even one with a tiger.) Long before the first issue arrived, we had an eager audience waiting in the wings.

But let me make something clear: this was by no means easy. This was a nine-month operation, and there were plenty of days when I questioned my decision-making paradigm. I had doubt, frustration, and stress, but the second our contributors began explaining the successes they had being featured in our little zine, all challenging aspects were erased. (Check the caption of the first photo.) The moral here is that the work is only half the story.  Marketing and distribution are hugely important elements that are often overlooked. In other words, selling is the work. If you have any questions about how we did this, let me know in the comments.

For those of you wondering. AG23 was a 6×9 paperback with standard-color paper and a matte cover—a non-precious object meant to change hands.

PS: Full disclosure. My long-term plan is to shoot a worthy project, pay for book design, then print a 200-copy run that I sell only to those who have signed up for my newsletter. The same newsletter I’ve never sent. Yes, that one. I see this as the future of photobook publishing. Self-contained, and a small enough run to sell through, so the creator can get back in the field to produce more work instead of spending upwards of eighteen months to two years in a traditional publishing cycle.