It'll Be Out There. Forever.

I had a few different thoughts for this week's blog. I considered doing an entry about social media (Twitter, specifically) and how it pertains to me getting the word out about my upcoming novel, Seeing. I didn't go with that idea (yet) because it's still something I'm learning about, and hoping not to abuse (it's an interior debate [struggle] of how much to promote because I certainly don't want to come off to others as pushy, bothersome, or annoying [as many authors on Twitter can be]). What made me decide to go with the topic I'm about to discuss is that it's something that's stuck with me for quite a while. Something I have a lot of thoughts on. Something that came with an epiphany.

Every morning I listen to Elvis Duran's radio show on the 20 minute drive to work. A few weeks back Elvis was doing a segment on his show where he was listing things that children born in 2014 won't be able to experience as they grow up - things that are, or were, common to us but will no longer be around for them. For example, one of the things mentioned on the list was corded telephones. I think it's safe to say that cell phones have long replaced corded, even portable house phones as our primary tool for "long distance" communication. It's very unlikely many children born this year will come across a working corded phone, unless they're visiting grandma and grandpa, perhaps. And even then will they stare at it with the same crooked eyebrow we did with rotary phones?

Now the corded phone I can understand. We're beyond them, technologically speaking. We're far past portable house phones, too. No one will miss them.

But something on the list struck me like an arrow through the heart when Elvis said it.

Libraries.

You know, those brick and mortar buildings with tall, long shelves filled with books, ordered alphabetically by author. Books of all sizes and genres. Hardbacks and paperbacks. Crisp new releases and aged classics. They're not books for sale, but for borrowing - like the way video stores were for renting movies (Blockbuster, Hollywood Video, Video King). And the only way to borrow a book was to have a library card. Remember those??

Well, we know what happened to video rental chains like Blockbuster, Hollywood Video, and Video King. They're now known as RedBox and On Demand.

And this is why Elvis mentioning libraries going the way of extinction made me sad.

Because I believed he was right.

With the world making copies of everything in digital form, with content of all types being offered through store apps and such, it only seems like a matter of time before it happens. That "it" being complete consolidation.

Think about it, how many movies do you own and have sitting on your shelf? How many books? How many CDs? They do take up a lot of space, right? (I know what my wife thinks of our DVD storage cases and how she wishes they would vanish.)

Now think about your smartphone, or your computer, or your tablet. They probably hold a decent amount of your music stored on the hard drive (the rest in the "cloud"), as well as apps for Kindle or Nook for reading, and with Digital/Ultraviolet copies of movies, you can watch all of your favorites on the screen. Instead of taking up space in your home, these files only take up drive space. And you can always purchase more drive space if you need it. Plus, you can take your files with you. And it cuts down on cleaning time because you're not dusting off any shelves every weekend.

(And think about this: creating a digital book, or album, or film costs much less to produce than the physical copy, so you know companies can only win by eventually going all digital.)

There are still the die-hard romantics out there, those who still wish to own actual books from their favorite authors, discs of their favorite movies, and CDs of their favorite artists/songs. I'm one of them. I do own a Nook (it was a birthday present from my wife), and I love it. There are great advantages to having one. But every Stephen King book I buy must be a genuine copy I can hold and admire. Being I'm not a multi-millionaire with unlimited shelf space, I can't afford to buy physical copies of every book I want to read, so I do buy books for my Nook when B&N runs sales. If we go on vacation, I can bring my Nook, which has over 40 books stored on it. I don't have to worry about space trying to pack three different paperbacks in a suitcase. Point is, the romantics are still out there, but we're a dying breed.

At some point everything, even money I believe, will be digital.

Consolidation.

But not to worry, this blog isn't all doom and gloom for you romantics.

A few days after hearing Elvis's list, my wife and I were having lunch with a few of her friends and the subject of my book came up. They asked about the plot, about me writing it, and when it would come out. They were very excited for me, and that was great, but then one of them said something that completely blew my mind.

"Once it's published, it'll be out there. Forever."

Whoa. That really made me stop and think. There were times when I was seeking a home for my novel that I came across some e-book-only publishers and refused to settle on my dream of being a published author and send them anything. Why? Because I wanted my book to be real. I wanted to hold it - I wanted others to hold it - and admire it much like I do every Stephen King, or Patrick Ness, or Laurie Halse Anderson book I own. I wanted to be able to sign it if someone wanted me to. I wanted it to collect dust on a shelf, waiting to be discovered by someone else in a home, not locked up on a digital shelf on someone's tablet, protected by a password where no one else can stumble upon it.

When I came across Winter Goose Publishing, I read up on them. I loved their view on books and that they considered their authors to be family, and I especially loved their motto: Helping you discover your next favorite book. These were people that loved books, loved good stories. I knew they would provide the perfect, loving home for my book. I wanted to submit to them, and what sold me was that they offered their author's works in both print and e-book. I could have the best of both worlds, so I submitted my manuscript.

I think we all know how it all turned out. :)

Needless to say, no matter how the future pans out from here, no matter if books do go the way of digital and libraries and bookstores are forced to close their doors - much as I and many don't want them to - I know there will be at least one copy of Seeing, one real copy, sitting on a shelf somewhere. A shelf that needs dusting every weekend. The spine of the book will be broken, the pages will be worn. There may be a food stain or a dog-eared corner. But there it will sit among many friends - waiting to be picked up again. It'll be out there, somewhere.

Forever.