Frankfurt, my dear, I don't give a damn...

Continued...

But, of course, one is too busy selling Rights to do any of these things. Or are we? What is this Fair really about?

It gradually dawned on me that the Fair is about selling Rights. That may seem obvious but what on earth are we doing, thousands of us on our partitioned stands in the middle of Europe, at a cost which may never be recovered in terms of any successful business deal?

It was the Americans, after World War II, who decided that the wrecked city of Frankfurt should be a conference centre, to pump up the desperate economy. And ever since, we have dutifully presented ourselves, perhaps only because if we don’t, the assumption will be that we have gone under or gone past our sell by date. There are plenty of the latter, including me: listen out for the squeak of rubber knickers down the aisles and you can see the old hands, and old feet, of those who think they will have one last Frankfurt before their manuscripts turn up.

I’ve often thought that the wrong people go to the Fair – or at least the right people are not always there. There are plenty of Chief Execs who fly in, make the noises, raise the glasses, and fly out at the drop of the last handshake. But there are so many hopefuls, too, freelances who want to show you their designs, authors with the Great Idea, printers looking for orders from people who never buy print. They’re offended at the brush off, without giving a thought to why you are there. They come to the Fair because they think it’s a forum for publishing as an entire entity.I’ve often thought that the wrong people go to the Fair – or at least the right people are not always there.

But it’s not. We are there to flog, not to be flogged to. You can see it in the guarded looks of those who make appointments on the stands – the icy smile as their antennae sense you want to sell, not to buy. It’s there in the deals that are announced in triumph, the zillion-dollar contract that justifies the expensive presence.

But can it really be true that you have to go and sit on hired furniture surrounded by clapboard to clinch a deal? Isn’t it possible, particularly with the Web, to do electronically what we do physically at Frankfurt? If that Big Deal is to be made, and the personal touch is needed, why wait until Frankfurt?

And isn’t there an element missing when the contract is being negotiated? Why, that old production department, of course! That contract, to be financially worthwhile, must assume that the costs work, the schedule is possible and the technology is in place. Without that knowledge, the deal can turn sour, lose money, and simply not be possible.

So often, the production manager back home has to haul the nuts out of the fire. So when did you last meet someone from production at the Fair? Only when dealing with the smaller publisher, who can’t afford to risk putting his nuts into the fire and is experienced in all aspects of publishing including production.

There, I’ve waved the flag for the production department. But I don’t underestimate the effort needed to sell rights, the sharpened judgment that picks out the worthwhile from the timewaster, the nose for the project that won’t work. Once, when packaging was still a Big Thing in the 80s, a group of us held a competition to see who got the most rejections in the shortest amount of time. Tony Littlechild, my business partner, won with ten projects rejected in less than a minute by USA’s Crown Publishing. Around five seconds a ‘nope’.

Tough world, publishing. A bit daft, too.


Colin Walsh