fiction

Would you trust an AI to edit and produce your book?

Spines is, in the spirit of the tech bros, a disrupter. It describes its mission on its website as “Harnessing the power of cutting-edge AI, Spines revolutionises every facet of the publishing journey, including proofreading, formatting, cover design, distribution, and marketing across all major channels and platforms.” They aim to cut, from months to weeks, the process of producing a book.

What exactly do they offer? They deny that are a vanity publisher or self-publishing service, but, of course, that is exactly what they are. What is different is the automation. The Israeli start-up plans to produce 8,000 books this year.

Predictably, the community of authors and publishers have been scathing in their criticism. “These aren’t people who care about books or reading or anything remotely related,” said author Suyi Davies Okungbowa. “These are opportunists and extractive capitalists.”

So what does the customer get? Oddly, for a publisher, they don’t list their books on their website. To find their books I had to go here. I examined a sample of 18 of these books

What do they charge?

Authors are charged between $1,824 and $5,496 for a print on demand service. By comparison, an established self-publisher, Troubador, charges £600 (about $730) to produce an e-book and £2,295 (around $2,800) for 200 printed copies. So Spines are not offering significant cost savings for cutting out human labour.

How well are their books selling?

To estimate the sales of these 18 books, I converted the Amazon Book Sales Rank into numbers of books using TCK’s calculator. On average, the sample sold 1.29 books a month. Six of them sold none at all and the largest sales were 4 a month.

The books are also not attracting a lot of marketing attention. On average, these books received 4.29 review.

How good is the production quality?

To assess this, I looked at the cover designs for the two fiction books in my sample. Design is, of course, an art, not a science. Personally, I found the covers stereotyped and banal, but I am not the target readership. Since I am assessing AI publishing, I gave two AIs a crack at the cover analysis. Both were assessed as high quality by Joel books. The Last Descendant got a rating of B from ebookfairs, while Thicker than Water got a C.

How well are the books edited?

This is the acid quality test of the hyped AI tools. A careful editor and proof-reader will ensure that the text is free of errors and that the words flow, as well as paying attention to structure and consistency. I examined only The Last Descendant, and only the first paragraph and the cover blurb. The cover blurb has one spelling mistake. The first paragraph contained six grammar mistakes, ranging from unnecessary commas, overuse of two words and one confused word. Judge for yourself:

“The vibrant atmosphere of the office holiday party at 12 Greenway Plaza in Houston, TX, enveloped Jason as he moved through the crowd. Laughter, music, and the aroma of LES BBQ, filled the air, creating a festive ambiance. Surrounded by employees, Jason basked in the joy of the season, drink in hand, and the sounds of celebration surrounded him. Jason Martinez was a man who knew how to make an impression. His brown skin and muscular frame contrasted with his crisp white shirt and black pants, giving him an air of confidence and authority. His face was framed by a neat and lined-up barbarian-style beard, which added a touch of ruggedness to his handsome features. His eyes sparkled with intelligence and ambition, and his smile was charming and persuasive. On his right hand, he wore a Bochic Burma ring, a stunning piece of jewelry that featured a single ruby encrusted in diamonds. The ring was a symbol of his success and power, as well as his taste and style. Jason was a man who had everything he wanted, and was not afraid to show it.”

The spelling and grammar mistakes aside, this opening paragraph has several problems. Sentence variety is low with little variation in length and structure. There is no character complexity—Jason is simply handsome, rich, and powerful. There is, as yet, no tension or plot to engage the reader, simply a character description, making for a slow-paced read. The description is all told by the narrator, rather than shown in Jason’s actions or thoughts.

Conclusion

Going with Spines is not cheap, offers no marketing support, and the editing is noticeable by its absence.

‘Don’t tell me the moon is shining. Show me the glint of light on broken glass,’ Anton Chekhov is said to have advised.

The rise of the “show, don’t tell” advice coincides, or maybe not entirely coincidentally, with the rise of the movies. It can be dated to the 1920s and Percy Lubock’s book, The Craft of Fiction. Perhaps readers, glutted on the new moving pictures, demanded to see the story rather than hear it.

You can, of course, find examples of “showing” before this time. But, in general, stories were told rather than shown. Narration tended to be in the “omniscient” mode, as if by a god who saw all and who could peer into character’s souls. Take a look at some of the classics. The legend of Gilgamesh: telling. Beowulf: telling. The Icelandic sagas: telling. The Iliad and the Odyssey: telling. Characters had no interiority because what they felt was of no importance. It was what they did that mattered. This only began slowly to change in the 12^th century.

Two things flow from this. Firstly, telling has a venerable history and is NOT wrong. Secondly, audiences today want immersion in the lives of their protagonists, and, therefore, some showing is now normal. If there is a rule, it is not “show, don’t tell” it is “show, when appropriate, and tell, when appropriate.”

Knowing when to use the one and when to use the other is a matter of practice and experience. There are no simple algorithms to determine this, but here are some likely instances (though there will be counter-examples for all of them) where you’d want to tell, not show:

Dialogue (because most dialogue is unembellished reportage)
Backstory
Where you want to convey necessary information without making it slow the flow
In the transition between settings
When you want to highlight something significant
When you want to balance other passages of showing

Narrative distance

The idea of narrative distance provides a more fine-grained distinction than the all-or-nothing “show, don’t tell.” Narrative distance refers to what it sounds like: how close we are to the character’s thoughts and feelings. In first person, we are almost always right inside the character’s head. But in third person, the distance can be subtly varied by word choice and by what is focused on and what is omitted.

Consider these examples:

A tall man stepped out from the shadows. (Straight telling).
The rain lashed down on the tall man as he stepped from the shadows. (Telling but with a bit of atmospheric detail).
Henry pulled his collar up against the rain as he stepped from the shadows. (We know his name and we’re much closer to the character now, getting a sense of his discomfort).
Bloody hell, would this weather never stop? Drenched to the skin, Henry stepped from the shadows, morosely pulling up his collar against the lashing rain. (Lots of showing, We’re right in the character’s sensations and mood now, though still imbedded in third person narration. This is known as “free indirect discourse”, where the character’s mentality appears within the narration without the use of speech or thought tags—there is no “he thought” or “he said”).

Note that moving down the scale from telling to showing, decreasing the “narrative distance”, tends to elongate things. This is obvious, because we’re adding more detail and emotion.