Leopard Postponed — What's a Writer to Do?

It’s all about timing.

Yesterday afternoon, not long after the stock markets closed in New York, Apple put a one-paragraph announcement on its Hot News page. The announcement told the world (or whoever happened to be watching that page) that because Leopard resources had been used to finish up the iPhone, Leopard would be delayed. Instead of seeing the finished OS in June, we’ll now see it in October.

Why it Matters to Me

I took the news with mixed emotions. I had begun working hard on my Leopard Visual QuickStart Guide for Peachpit Press. The book will be the eighth or tenth (I’ve lost count) edition of my Mac OS VQS, which is one of my biggest selling titles. The book is important to me; the last edition accounted for half of my annual income for two years in a row. When that book is ready to write I drop everything — even helicopter charters — to work on it.

The most important part of it is getting it done on time. When Tiger came out in 2005 only two authors had books in stores beside the brand new software on its release date: Robin Williams and me. Both long-time Peachpit authors with reputations for churning out books that satisfy readers. If Robin’s book sold only half as well as mine — and I’m not fooling myself; it probably sold twice as well — we kicked butt. It was a great reward for hard work and grueling deadlines. But I have to say honestly that my Tiger book was one of the ones I’m most proud of.

This Time was Different

This time around, things were definitely different. The software wasn’t ready yet — that was obvious in the way certain features just didn’t work right. Lots of bugs to iron out, but few developmental releases. It was almost as if Apple’s Mac OS team was overwhelmed. This announcement from Apple explains a lot. Apparently they were overwhelmed, but not by the task at hand. They were overwhelmed by being shorthanded to tackle the task at hand.

Add to that the fact that my screenshot software of choice, Snapz Pro, “broke” in Leopard. Don’t misunderstand me; it did work and it took fine screenshots. But the shortcut key to invoke it did not work — even when I fiddled with Mac OS settings and tried other shortcut keys. So, for example, there was no way to take a screenshot of a menu.

I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a Visual QuickStart Guide, but they rely on screenshots to communicate information. The book is full of step-by-step, illustrated instructions. I estimate that my Tiger VQS has at least 2,000 screenshots in it. Some screenshots show windows, others show menus. Almost every single one is less than a full screen of information. Now think of how much fun it might be to take 2,000 screenshots with something as awkward as Grab or, worse yet, Apple’s built-in screenshot shortcut keys. And then manually edit every single screenshot in a graphics program like Photoshop. Not having Snapz Pro (or something equivalent, if something equivalent exists) was going to seriously slow down my workflow.

What was even worse for me (and all other writers, I assume) was the “secret features” Steve Jobs alluded to when he first showed off Leopard. I had no idea what they were. And no one else did either. What if those features changed the way part of Mac OS X looked? All my screenshots would have to be redone. And what if the features were big enough to warrant their own chapters? Or replaced existing features? That could mean significant reorganization of the book, with changes to all the chapter and feature references. I could be working my butt off to finish a 700+ page book, only to have to redo major parts of it.

So I was under a lot of pressure. I had the ticking clock that said the software would be out “this spring.” That meant before June 20. I knew my publisher needed 2-3 weeks to get the final files printed and turned into books. That meant I needed to be done writing and editing by the end of May. But not knowing what the future would bring, was crippling me, making it difficult and frustrating to get things done.

I was not a happy camper. So when the announcement came yesterday, it was a bit of a relief for me.

The Problem with the Postponement

There is a problem, however: timing.

I had planned to work on my Leopard book for April and May. Then comes my annual secret project (which I can’t talk about until after publication) for the month of June and a bit into July. Then my annual one-month stay at Howard Mesa to get some work done on our property and knock off a few articles for Informit and possibly try to reconstruct that mystery novel I was working on (which was lost in the great hard disk crash and backup screw-up of February 2007). Then we’d planned to take a vacation to the northwest to continue our search for a new place to live. By that time, it would be September and the helicopter business would be heating up again; I already have two charters lined up for that month. Also, around that time, I’d be ready to start work on my Word for Macintosh revision.

There was a plan B for this summer, too. It consisted of me getting a job as a pilot for someone else, flying somewhere other than Arizona. I could work on my secret project while I was away and escape Arizona’s brutal heat and get to fly someplace different. I have a very good lead on a job in St. Louis (of all places) and a few possibilities in Oregon and Washington. But nothing finalized.

Now these plans for the next six months of my life are completely up in the air. Assuming an October 1 release of Leopard — this is just a date pulled out of the air; I swear I don’t know anything and if I did I wouldn’t repeat it — I have to be finished with the book by the first week in September. So I’ll work on it in July and August. While I still have my secret project to work on in June, I don’t have anything lined up for the rest of April and the month of May.

What’s even worse about all this is that I can’t work on a VQS at Howard Mesa or at a summer job elsewhere — I need a desktop computer with a big monitor to do the layout — and I can’t take a vacation when I need to work on this book. (See above for how important it is.) So my whole summer schedule is completely screwed up.

And It’s a Money Problem, Too

And since I get paid advances when I work and I don’t have anything lined up between now and the beginning of June, I’m not going to see a payday until the end of June or July. Ouch. So my finances will be screwed up, too.

It gets even worse. If the book had a release date in June 2007 (with the original release of Leopard), I’d start seeing royalties at September 2007 month-end. But because it won’t be released until October, which is after the start of the last quarter, I won’t see royalties until March 2008 month-end. That’s a 6-month payday delay for a 4-month publication delay. Double-ouch.

But that’s what the freelance writer’s life is like: a financial roller coaster.

What to Do?

Today I’ll be making some phone calls. The goal is to pin down exact dates for all of my known projects so I can decide, once and for all, if I can get a pilot job according to Plan B. And, while I’m at it, I’ll try to pick up a small book project to work on in May. (Not likely but remotely possible.)

Then I’ll get to work doing other things that I’ve been neglecting — cleaning out the condo I want to rent, washing the helicopter, organizing my office, reserving rooms for next year’s Southwest Circle Helicopter Adventure trips.

After all, life goes on.

Rain Storm in Wickenburg

Not much to talk about.

It rained today. For those readers who live in places where rain is a part of life, you might be wondering why I’ve taken the time to write about it.

But rain isn’t a part of life here in the Sonoran desert of Arizona. Rain is usual. Rain is special. Rain is something to look forward to and enjoy.

The rain came with a strange kind of storm. The day started out clear enough, after high winds last night blew the desert dust around. The dust was hanging in the air this morning when it got light. The same dust we’ve been looking at for the past few days.

It’s spring and wind is part of spring. Calm in the morning, windy in the afternoon, then calm in the evening and overnight.

But last night, the wind didn’t calm down. Our wind chimes tinkled vigorously all night long. We had the windows closed to keep the dust out, so they weren’t loud enough to keep us up.

This morning, it was still windy. But then it got calm. And then it got windy. Calm. Windy. Calm. Windy.

Make up your mind already!

At 10 AM, I left my desk and went into the kitchen to make breakfast. Although I’m usually up before 6 AM and have my coffee right away, I don’t have breakfast until midmorning. And when I reached the kitchen with its southwest-facing windows, I realized that a storm was on the way.

Windy, calm, windy, calm. What a strange day. I watched the hazy, dust-filled sky cloud over from my northeast-facing office window. At lunchtime, back in the kitchen, I saw that the storm was closer.

Oddly enough, my neighbor’s windmill was calm. So was my other neighbor’s windsock.

The calm before the storm?

I went outside and threw my MR-2’s old car cover over my Jeep. I still haven’t put the doors and windows on the darn thing and I didn’t want to get it soaked.

A while later, the wind kicked up again. Howling this time. The palm tree branches I’d cut off our little palm tree days before blew around the yard as a dust devil came through. I went outside to check the Jeep and was surprised to see that the cover was still stretched over it.

I let the dog in.

The rain started a while later. Drizzle then pouring then drizzling. Not enough volume to keep the pavement wet; certainly not enough to get the wash flooding — a good thing, since the horses were down there. The rain cycle went on like that for a while. I checked the radar images on my Radar In Motion widget. The storm was all around me, moving in from the west.

But never enough rain to really get the pavement wet.

We have a problem here in Arizona. It’s often so dry that when it rains, the rain evaporates before it hits the ground. People think I’m kidding when I say this, but I’m not. It’s called virga. Look it up.

Sometimes, even when the rain does reach the ground, it dries before more drops can join it. The drops appear on the pavement, but dry before more drops fall around it. So the pavement doesn’t get wet. That’s what was happening today. Very disappointing.

But when I poked my head outside, I smelled the rain. A nice, fresh smell. The smell of water on the creosote bushes. A smell so unique that the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix has an exhibit that simply sprays water on creosote branches so people can smell it.

I kept working. The storm passed through. It got quiet.

When the UPS man arrived, I went outside. The pavement was dry.

To the north, I could see the mountains again. The radar showed the storm had moved to the east.

The storm was past. The rain was over.

Now I’ll have to wait again for the next storm. I hope it’s better than this one was.

Excel Book Done

That’s book number 68.

ImageI put the finishing touches on Microsoft Office Excel 2007: Visual QuickStart Guide. It’s my 68th book (I just counted) and right now, I feel as if I wrote them all yesterday.

Okay, so not that tired.

I had some trouble with this book. First, there was the beta software situation. Not only did I have to work with the Office 2007 beta, but I had to run it on the Vista beta. Double Microsoft Windows betas for a person who usually works on a Mac! You can imagine my concern.

But everything went pretty smoothly with that and I’ve been using release versions since January, so I know everything in the book is based on the final software.

Motivation slowed me down a bit in the middle of the project. I think I really need an editor cracking a whip over my head to get me to work at my old pace. These days, I’d rather fly than write about Excel. (Can you imagine?) The thing that snapped me out of it was money. If I don’t make milestones, my publisher does not send checks. Although Flying M Air is now paying all of its own bills — thank heaven; you should see some of those bills! — it’s not paying my bills. If I don’t write, I don’t eat. And since I like to eat, I became motivated.

Of course, the killer was my February hard disk crash and the two weeks it took me to get everything back to normal here. What a productivity killer! But it taught me a new valuable lesson about backups — you think I would have learned the last two times — and my old dual G5 is still running, now with a new hard disk to go with last year’s new motherboard. Sheesh. (Now you know why I bought AppleCare for my MacBook Pro.)

I churned through the last few chapters relatively quickly, anxious to meet deadlines tied to promotional opportunities. (I’m not sure of those promos really exist or if my editor has learned to tell me about fantasy promos to get me to work faster. I wouldn’t blame her if she made it up.) I had first pass files done last week and spent the past few days finalizing files based on edits. Today, after fooling around a bit — I’m the queen of procrastination — I laid out the index, created an ad for the book’s companion Web site, and turned it all in. The e-mail message I sent to my editor said:

I think I’m done. Can you ask them to send that final check? (Still waiting for the last one, too.)

The book weighs in at 360 pages, which is about the same as the last edition. It’s got the new VQS cover design. It lists for $21.99, but you can buy it from Amazon.com for $14.95 right now, which is 32% off. (Not a bad deal.) It should be in stores by April 20 or thereabouts.

Meanwhile, life goes on.

Tomorrow, I have to take my helicopter in to the avionics shop in Mesa to see if they can figure out why my radio isn’t working right. I have a meeting with a marketing guy down there at 10 AM. Then a tour of Phoenix for a man and his daughter at 2. Somewhere in between, I’ll have lunch with Mike, who has been away for the past few days. Then a flight home.

Friday I get started on my next book. Those of you who know me should know what that is.

Why I Don't Share GPS Coordinates Online

I’m vague about locations for a reason.

One of the great things about exploring remote desert locations is that they’re seldom visited by others. And the fewer people who visit an interesting destination, the fewer people have the opportunity to vandalize it.

I’ve seen the results of vandalism firsthand.

  • A huge masonry house overlooking Lake Pleasant was abandoned in the late 1970s or early 1980s when only 75% done. It had windows once, but vandals took care of that and left their shotgun shells and beer cans behind.
  • A pair of cabins dating from the early 1900s in the Weaver Mountains had apple trees growing out front, but campers decided to cut them down for firewood.
  • A rock with petroglyphs carved into it in the mountains near Congress has more modern graffiti than ancient indian drawings.
  • Entire ghost towns in the Weaver, Bradshaw, and Wickenburg Mountains have been wiped off the map by souvenir hunters.

These are only a few of the things I’ve seen destroyed, lost forever. I don’t want to be responsible — even indirectly — for the loss of any others.

Many times when I write about places that are hidden away in the desert, I’m vague about their whereabouts. I know that I won’t damage them. And I know that the people I bring there won’t damage them. But who’s to say what people who get directions or GPS coordinates on the Web will do?

Just today, my friend Ray and I were talking about ATVers exploring all the old mine sites. They come up from Phoenix with their fancy quads, following directions they’ve found on the Web to places like Anderson Mill and Gold Bar Mine. Most of them are respectful of these remnants of our past. But it only takes one with a bad attitude to destroy fragile ruins.

And sadly, there are more than one of these people out there.

Royalty Statements

What my quarterly royalty statement tells me.

I make my living as a writer. Sure, I do other stuff and bring in money doing it, but when it all gets down to dollars and cents, the money I receive from writing is what pays the mortgage and puts food on the table.

With a new royalty statement in my hands, I thought I’d take a few moments to explain to folks interested in writing how the royalty part of writing works and what can be learned from a royalty statement.

How a Typical Writer Receives Income

Money from my writing work comes in three ways:

  • Payments for articles. When I write an article for publication, I normally get a check within 2 to 4 weeks of publication. The amount is agreed upon in advance, so I know what to expect but not exactly when to expect it.
  • Advances for work in progress on books. When I sign a book contract, it includes a payment schedule for advances. I like my advance paid in three or four installments that are due when certain parts of the book are submitted to my editor(s) — in other words, when I achieve completion milestones. A typical arrangement might be 1/3 on signing, 1/3 on 1/2 completion, and 1/3 on completion. Depending on the publisher, the checks usually arrive within 2 to 4 weeks of the milestone. Again, I know how much to expect but not exactly when to expect it.
  • Royalty payments. When I sign a book contract, it also includes a royalty percentage. The percentage is applied to the wholesale price of the book. So, for example, if the royalty is 12% and the book retails for $20 (about average for my books), the 12% is applied to the amount the publisher sold the book to retailers (or book clubs or direct order customers) for. A good rule of thumb is about 50% off the cover price. So I’d get 12% of about $10 or $1.20 per book. This royalty rate is applied to all sales of a title to come up with a royalty due. The amount of advance is then subtracted — remember, that was an advance on royalties — and if the result is a positive number, the book has “earned out” and I get a royalty check. My publishers pay royalties quarterly, although not on the same schedule. I know exactly when a royalty check will come — well, within 3 days of an exact date — but I never know how much I’ll get.

After doing this for 15 years, I’ve come to think of advances as my “bread and butter,” payment for articles as “fun money,” and royalties earned as “icing on the cake.” I won’t write a book unless the advance is enough to cover the amount of time and effort I put into writing the book. (I turned down two low-advance projects just last year.) This way, if the book doesn’t earn out, I’ll still make enough to keep paying the bills. If it does earn out, great. And since I don’t do a lot of work on articles — it’s just too much effort to get the work lined up — I don’t rely on that income for anything. That’s kind of unfortunate, because I can usually bang out one or two articles in day, so the income would really be great if I’d get get more of that kind of work.

As you can imagine, royalty statement time is a big event at my house — especially when Peachpit royalties are due. The statement comes in a big fat envelope. The reason: there are lots of pages. But one of the first pages of the package is the royalty check. And a quick peek tells me just how much icing I’ll have to spread around for the next three months.

How Many Books are on the Books?

The reason my Peachpit royalty statement comes in a big fat envelope is because there are lots of pages. The statement sitting in front of me right now is 61 pages long. I can’t even get a staple through it for filing.

The first few pages — 4, this time around — is a summary of the ISBNs covered by the statement. This list of ISBNs — 34 of them this quarter — are the books the publisher still has in its accounting system.

I need to make a distinction here between titles and ISBNs. A good example is right on the first page. My 2004 title, Creating Spreadsheets and Charts in Excel: Visual QuickProject Guide, is listed three times: the original title, the German translation, and the French translation. Sometimes translations get their own ISBN and sometimes revenue for a translation is listed for the main title. It depends on how the translation rights were sold. Also, since Peachpit is now selling PDF versions of some of my books, those versions appear on a separate line.

Still, a quick count of titles on this quarter’s statement shows 28 titles listed. Whew! Even I think that’s a lot.

In my case, the vast majority of my work these days is in revisions. So each statement might show multiple versions of the same book. This is especially true for titles that are still “alive.” For example, my America Online: Visual QuickStart Guides (a 2-part — Macintosh and Windows — nightmare completed for version 3.0 years ago) are “dead” titles. They came out, sold poorly, and were not revised. These book are dead and buried and the only reminder that I ever did them are the author copies of each book on my author copy shelf. But my Excel for Windows: Visual QuickStart Guide is alive and kicking — in fact, I just finished the revision for Excel 2007 this week. Three editions appear on my royalty statement: 2000, 2002, and 2003. (2007 will appear on the next statement.) And my Mac OS: Visual QuickStart Guide takes up the most lines: seven editions going back as far as the edition covering Mac OS 9.

For a title to appear on the royalty statement, it must be either earning money or losing money (by returns) with a more recent edition to suck up the losses. This is an important clause in book contracts — one that’s important enough to discuss in a little more detail here. Commonly known as cross-accounting or cross-deductions, it means that returns on one title can be applied to net revenue on another. So, for example, if my share of returns on an old edition of my Excel book was $43.54, that amount could be deducted from or charged to royalties on a more recent edition. That’s normally why books stay on royalty statements for so long — there’s still accounting for them.

It was kind of a good thing that my AOL books didn’t have more recent editions. Neither title earned out, so the money I was overpaid for those books could be deducted from future editions, had they existed. Instead, the publisher cut their losses by not doing new editions (a wise move) and simply stopped accounting for the existing books when the numbers stopped coming through. The books “fell off” my royalty statement.

(If you’re ever given the opportunity to negotiate a book contract, do not sign a contract with a clause that says all of your books can be pooled together for cross-accounting. (I don’t know the exact wording of a clause like that because I’ve had it removed from every single draft contract it appeared in.) Agreeing to this may prevent you from ever getting a royalty check if you write multiple titles for the same publisher and any or them are dogs. If you’re really lucky, you won’t even have cross-accounting for the same edition of a book — I was lucky to have that situation with one of my Quicken titles years ago. But I think it’s fair to do cross-accounting with different editions of the same book, so I don’t mind signing for it. I just brace myself for the returns every time a new edition comes out.

And returns, in case you’re wondering, are returns from retailers/wholesalers, not consumers. If Barnes & Nobel buys 1000 copies of a book and sells 200 of them in the time they allotted to give the title shelf space, 800 copies come back. That’s a bad thing for the author.

What the Summary Numbers Mean

Still with me? Here’s a bit more that the summary pages tell me.

For each ISBN, the summary page has 6 numbers:

  • Previous Balance is the amount owed to me (positive number) or the publisher (negative number) for the ISBN. There usually aren’t any positive numbers; if the publisher owned me money, they paid me last quarter. So books that are earned out show zero in this column. If I owe the publisher money — for example, the book hasn’t earned out or subsequent returns have put the ISBN in the red — that number appears as a negative value. Zero is good, negative is bad.
  • Earnings/Subsidiary Rights Earnings is what the book earned me during the quarter. That’s the royalty calculation applied to net sales. Positive numbers means they sold more books than they received in returns. Negative numbers mean they got more in returns than they sold. Positive is good, negative is bad.
  • Credits/(Deductions) is the amount paid out during the quarter for advances or, if the author is paying for indexing, the amount paid to the indexer. I’ve never seen a positive number in this column.
  • Cross Deductions is where they take returns from one title and apply them to royalties earned on another title. So, for example, if the net earnings on my Word X book were -$53.47, that amount would appear as a positive value in this column for that ISBN and a negative value in that column for a later edition — perhaps my Word 2004 book. If you add up the cross-deductions column, the net amount should be zero.
  • Payment Due is the net amount owed to me for the ISBN. This number is either zero or a positive number.
  • Balance Forward is the amount that needs to be earned out to get more royalties on the ISBN. It’ll be zero if there was a payment in the previous column or a negative number if zero was in the previous column. That value is carried forward to the Previous Balance column in the next statement.

Of course, this is the format Peachpit uses. Other publishers may use other formats.

So when I get a royalty statement, the second thing I look at is the summary. (The first is the amount of the check, of course.) The summary tells me which books are earning money for me. That’s usually current editions of books. This is where I can see at a glance whether a new title has earned out. I can also see which books are earning me the most money — the titles with bright and happy futures. The bigger the payment due on a title, the more likely that title will be revised in the future. (Unless the software publisher decides to kill the software, as Adobe did to PageMill years ago. That book was doing very well when it was killed.)

Sometimes I get pleasant surprises. For example, my Excel 2002 book is still selling. That book was published five years ago and it earned $262 for me this quarter. Okay, so that isn’t enough to host a big party, but it’s a nice thing, a good thing. After all, the average life of a computer book is 18 months. So to have one that’s still bringing in a few bucks for me after five years is great.

The summary statement also tells me which titles are dead. These are the titles with previous balances that are negative numbers and no revised editions to earn more revenue. Sometimes these titles have ugly negative numbers in the Earnings column, indicating returns. My QuickBooks Pro for Mac book is in this situation. Although it’s the only title covering that software, there simply aren’t enough users interested in buying a book to make the book earn out. So when my editor says the publisher is not going to revise the title, I can look at this royalty statement and understand why. The book is dead.

Want more detail? The summary pages are also a table of contents for the 57 pages that follow them. That’s where I can find information about units sold, subsidiary rights (like translation rights), and where the books were sold: U.S., Canada, Export, etc. To be honest, I don’t look at these pages for every title. Heck, I have enough to do in a day.

What I Learned this Quarter

Looking at the royalty statement is like peering into a crystal ball. I learned that there are certain topics I probably won’t be writing again and other topics I’ll be writing about for years to come. I learned which of my books is doing best for me (still Tiger, after two years!) and which ones I might want to promote a bit more to liven up.

But with 61 pages to review, that’s about all.