Lulu.com is interesting to me on a number of levels. On one hand, I like the idea that anyone can publish anything without having to rely on traditional publishing. It seems straightforward to upload or scan your documents, print them if you want and distribute them in a DIY fashion. But kind of like Betsey's assessment of Recycle This, the concept is stronger than Lulu.com's ease of use for aspiring authors.
(Like most writers/content-providers/creators/Kindle-feeders, I looked at Lulu.com and thought -- oh, they're an online publisher. Just so you know, and don't make that mistake again, Lulu.com wants you to know "Lulu.com is not a publisher. It is a digital marketplace guided by a vision of empowerment and accessibility." So there.)
By offering publication to a wide spectrum of users -- from writers to academics -- Lulu.com provides a forum for users to think less about the division between their prospective fields and more about the content they want to publish. But I'm not sure I enjoy the mingling of "Products" from authors to businesses to wedding photographers to people who just want to make a brochure. Can't there be separate tabs? My life story should not be on the same page as pictures of someone's stamp collection that they decided to scan and publish.
Speaking of that, I should also say that I have never appreciated the notion that anyone can publish a good, quality work, or the idea that amateurs and scholars and whoever thinks their trip to Italy is worthy of a 200-page guidebook should all be considered "authors."
As much as my web-savvy colleagues may despise the old dusty publishing machine, it has thrived because the process of publishing a book (though it is slow and expensive and not for the faint of heart) lends authenticity and credence to a work that is usually vetted for quality. In other words, it discourages losers who have no talent from distracting demanding readers from people who not only don't have talent but don't know they don't have talent because sites like Lulu.com allow them to publish their work and delude them into thinking that one day they will be talented AND discovered by publishing their own work.
That dusty system, as unfair as it may seem to those whose work gets lost in the slush pile (yes, I'm raising my hand) also raises the bar for literary quality and creative standards. This bottom-up approach of Lulu.com undermines all that which I think is both beautiful and slightly creepy. Beautiful, because it's like buying a lottery ticket. You just never know whose book will be discovered this way. Creepy because I can just imagine a person published on this site going to a writer's conference with a self-published book and being mocked openly.
I'm working on being positive more often, so let me talk more about what I like.
The site providers say they get 15,000 new registrations a week and more than 100, 000 unique visitors everyday. Their powerful business model is built on Lulu.com's "proven ability to grab hold of the long tail of user-generated content and provide an empowering outlet for creators of all types."
Lulu.com has a snazzy cost calculator that shows all of the different kinds of publishing users can choose, along with a good estimate of how much it'll cost. There are also community forums for writers and content producers, and "packages" that users can buy that include tips on how to market their books independently.
Let's imagine that web publishing became the standard. I can't imagine that categorical, habit-riddled human beings wouldn't add to this system some sort of authority-based hierarchy. Actually, it's already happened. For instance, on Lulu.com, there are some books that are promoted. How did they get there? Who decided to promote those, as opposed to the thousands of other products that people could buy?
When you view one of the items or popular titles, there is an Amazon.com-esque sales rank, customer reviews and the choice of printing books on demand for cheap or for getting the paperback version. It allows writers to promote the first order instance of their work, as well, at bookstores, which I think is a nice blend of the new, non-paper-pervy world that we're going to enter in the next few decades.
I like that the site tries to give people a choice between a "book" and a print-on-demand "work." The print on demand book is cheaper, and the options make one feel like neither choice is wrong. I'd still be interested in seeing statistics on how many people print their books on demand from Lulu.com and its most popular user base.
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