From Debra Dixon: Soooo long ago when I was trying to decide what I want
ed to be when I "grew up" as a writer, I decided I wanted to be the love child of Stephen Hunter, Deborah Smith and Tami Hoag. All I knew of Deborah Smith was that she could sling words that were so deeply human and true that her books piled up on my keeper shelves. Then in a twist of fate, Bantam bought a book of mine and I found myself at a fancy restaurant. Eating dinner with Tami Hoag, Deborah Smith, Iris Johansen. I said nothing and just smiled. Terrified.
Halfway through desert, Deborah Smith "yipped" (she yips) and said, "OMG. Who's desert coffee is this?" It was my coffee but I was too scared to say anything when she stole it from the waitress, who--I'm sure--thought Deb would hand it to me.
That was the beginning. Today she's the dearest of friends and I scramble to keep up with her mind. I hope you'll all join her in a rousing discussion. She loves to wrestle with ideas. So, you chime right in with your thoughts!

I have seen the future of books, and they will have a lot in common with my great grandpa's wooden-framed writing slate. He toted his slate (which I've inherited) every day of his boyhood to a one-room schoolhouse in the mountains above Atlanta, circa 1870. Great-grandpa Robert, who was named after Confederate General Robert E. Lee, (my great-great grandpa Kimbrough, Robert's father, was an infantry sharpshooter under Lee's command) could chalk no more than a few words or perform simple arithmetic ciphers on his little five-by-seven rectangle of smooth gray slate. And then, with a simple movement of his hand, those images could be erased.
You could say it was the original beta tester for an ebook reader.
A few minutes ago, as I started to write this blog on an entirely different subject, Jeff Bezos, head of Amazon.com, sat down on the TV screen across from my coffee-table-propped feet to be interviewed by Jon Stewart on The Daily Show.
And he handed Stewart the new Kindle.
I gaped at it. I'd never seen one in the flesh before, meaning on TV, not a still photo. So there it was. The size of great grandpa's boyhood writing slate. A screen ins
ide a delicate white frame, at most one-half-inch thick (I bet I could slide it under a closed door) and small enough to tuck inside most purses, fanny packs, or the average Bible, if you wanted to secretly download the Sunday comics during church.
"You can download an entire book in sixty seconds," Bezos told Jon.
Jeff Bezos wasn't what I expected as the big kahuna of the massive online bookstore that's re-defining how we shop and read. He looks like a cross between Howie Mandel, Peewee Herman and a barista at a really trendy coffee bar: Slight, bald, hip, in slender pants, a black pullover and a simple jacket, but with a big, disturbingly confident laugh. He guffawed at least once every fifteen seconds at Jon's jokes. His laugh sounded so happy and boyish. Is
he Satan in slick threads or an adorably successful elf?
I was still recovering from the "download a book in sixty seconds" announcement as Bezos went on to say that the Amazon Kindle books are all 9.95 (cheaper than most print books, he pointed out) and the latest Kindle model will hold fifteen hundred books.
The Kindle is wireless (and Amazon doesn't charge users for the wifi connection,) its battery will last up to two weeks without re-charging, and it will read aloud to you. "Is it like one of those robot voices?" Jon asked, to which a chortling Bezos admitted it was -- for now. Neither Jon nor Bezos mentioned the Authors Guild's recent challenge of Amazon's ability to, in essence, create audiobooks without paying the authors or the publishers for those rights.
But Jon did note, "Uh, publishers are worried about people being able to pirate books with this."
Bezos breezily dismissed that concern. Publishers have the option of encrypti ng their books to protect them, he said, not mentioning that Digital Rights Management is considered the clunky Frankenstein of the ebook world and is fading away quickly. In other words, readers want NO hindrance to their ability to transfer their Kindle b
ooks to other readers or share them with friends. And Bezos surely knows that.
"We're finding that people are buying more books because of the Kindle," Bezos said. "They're buying more books and they're reading more." I assume he said that to reassure us book industry worrywarts that just because Kindle is lowering the value of the content authors create, *and* making it easier for readers to steal that content, *and* preparing to undercut the value of audio rights for books, that we'll make up the losses in volume sales.
"But I like the feel of a book on my chest when I fall asleep in bed," Jon pointed out. (Warning: paraphrase alert in effect.)
"You can do that with the Kindle," Bezos told him. "And you only need one hand to hold it."
The audience hooted and Jon moaned lecherously, "Ohhhhh, The Great Gatsby."
Then Bezos told him the Kindle's retail price. $359.
Jon stared at him. "And on top of that I still have to pay for the books I download?"
"Yeah," Bezos chortled.
Jon flipped the Kindle at him with comic disgust.
Okay, so . . . cute interview. But serious subject. The experts think we really are on the cusp of "Ebook Nation," a time when the always-a-bridesmaid-never-a-bride digital book finally catches the eye of the mainstream audience. Good news or bad news or both for the book world?
Readers are clamoring to remove all encryptions that hamper their use of the files. Pirated copies are zooming all over the world in increasing numbers. A whole bunch of "new media" gurus are calling for ebooks to be sold at a fraction of the price of print books, and there's even a respected school of thought that says ALL digital content -- books, articles, music, etc. should be free. Absolutely free.
I'm not sure how that rationale works. The "free for all" folks merrily insist we publishers and authors can come up with some nifty new ways to make money off our content other than charging people for the privilege of reading our stories. But so far none of the "Free the Books" crowd has displayed even a remotely accurate understanding of the costs of publishing -- costs that will remain whether the book is digital or print -- and so far, the suggestions for how to make money without asking readers to pay for anything have amounted to vague and ridiculously naive ideas based on the belief that, Golly gee, most people will be happy to contribute money to authors if authors are really really nice to them.
So I'm thinking about my great grandpa's writing slate some more. Maybe I'll go get it out of the display cabinet next to Grandma's wire-framed glasses and Great Aunt Ruby's hat pin.
Maybe I can stand on street corners, a tin can for tips at my feet, holding up my antique ebook with these words chalked on it.
WILL PUBLISH FOR SPARE CHANGE.