What I learned from crowdfunding my book, Trekonomics

This past Sunday morning, Trekonomics, broke through its funding goal of 1000 pre-orders on Inkshares. I am elated and immensely thankful to all of you who backed my work. Here are a few things I have learned.

So as they say on NPR, let’s do the numbers.

Social media:

For all its might, social media (specifically Facebook and Twitter) were not significant drivers of sales. This might be due to the fact that prior to launching the campaign, I had neither a Twitter account nor a Facebook page. In addition, the Facebook page for Trekonomics is the property of an awesome Finnish rap band of the same name.

Twitter did send significant traffic to the book's fundraising page. Unfortunately, that traffic did not convert into sales at a high rate (roughly 1.43%). Commanding a sizeable social media following is the current anxious mantra of the equally anxious publishing industry. I was told by two agents on both coasts that without followers I would not be able to even pique the interest of a publisher. Either the numbers contradict that hypothesis, or Trekonomics is an outlier.

News media:

A possible explanation for Trekonomics' outlier status is the role of the news media. Very early in the campaign, the project drew the attention of Hayley Tsukuyama and Brian Fung at the Washington Post. Felix Salmon and I did a long and nerdy interview with them. The post brought a lot of traffic and got syndicated all over the world, even appearing in French translation in the weekly 'Courrier International,' to my father's and my high-school friends' delight.

That post somehow reached the eyeballs of the NYTimes' op-ed pages editors. A few days later I found myself discussing the book on the record with Anna North, culture editor for Taking Note, the Gray Lady's op-ed section blog. Where the WaPo was the catalyst, the NYT story really made the book.

These two articles, posted online with links to the book’s funding page, led to an overall conversion rate of 7.11%. More importantly, they elevated my project's profile and validated it in the eyes of the reading public.

Influencers and organic search:

That is not all. From the outset, the book had two key public champions, financial writer Felix Salmon and UC Berkeley's economics professor Brad Delong. I believe that the campaign owes its success in large part to their clout and their sterling reputation. When Brad Delong and Felix Salmon put their good names behind a book, or rather the promise of a book pending a pre-defined fundraising goal, people listen. Their pre-screening, for lack of a better word, greatly facilitated my access to established news outlets.

This proves to me that so-called influencers' marketing really works. Far from me to compare Prof. Delong and Felix Salmon to the Kardashian half-sisters. I just wonder what a mere mention of the book on Kim K.'s or Pharrell Williams' Instagram feeds would have achieved (Pharrell is one of the most famous Star Trek nerds in the world, his record label is called Star Trak for a reason - if he ever reads this...)

Furthermore, sales numbers indicate that when it comes to books, the old gatekeepers and tastemakers still rule. The validation, the imprimatur, of the established news media remain unparalleled. As the chart attests, articles and features in the New York Times, the Washington Post, Slate and Business Insider turned into a consequential amount of pre-orders (about 23% of the total).

The Internet has made it easier and faster to catch journalists' attention (the WaPo team originally contacted me through Twitter direct messages). But their attention, even more strained by social media, is not unlimited. This is where the reputation of the campaign's early champions made a difference. It helped cut through the clutter and the information overload

In addition, one can see the public influence of Felix Salmon and Brad Delong in the sales conversion figures from online searches (mostly from Google). People heard about the book and the campaign, Trekonomics was in the news and in the air (at least for a small subset of the overall population). Those who were keen on supporting it searched for it and found it. Search accounted for 27.1% of all sales, with a stellar conversion rate of 14.48%.

Blogs and other online platforms

A few blogs picked up on the project. Their contribution to overall sales was somewhat marginal.  Speaking of marginal, there is one very interesting case buried in the data: Prof. Tyler Cowen's and Prof. Alex Tabarrok's blog, Marginal Revolution. The website sent a lot of traffic to Trekonomics' book page, but did not convert nearly as well as page visits would suggest (only 1 purchase for 289 hits). Marginal Revolution and its very active and thoughtful commenters are known to skew libertarian. I must assume, based on the pathetic conversion rate, that this was spite traffic, so to speak. I must confess I am somewhat disappointed. I would have expected a bit more sales from the Ayn Rand fan club, if only because libertarianism and science fiction have so much in common..

Inkshares

Trekonomics was put up for funding through Inkshares. Inkshares is both a crowdfunding platform and an old-school publisher. Book projects that reach their funding milestone are edited, printed and distributed by Inkshares. Inkshares has already released a few books under their imprint (most notably Star Wars' screenwriter Gary Whitta's fantastic Abomination). There are more books in the pipeline. I saw the books, I held them in my hands, they are made with great care and the kind of craft that only comes from people who truly value and respect the written word.

But Inkshares is more than a crowdfunding websites and a publisher. It is also a community of writers and readers. JF Dubeau, author of The Life Engineered has described the role of Inkshares' community better than I ever could. The support of Inkshares' authors and readers lit the fuse at the campaign's onset. The crucial importance of that initial boost is not reflected in the final tally.

Email:

Well, I did email my friends and extended family to ask them to pre-order the book. It is the least appealing aspect of crowdfunding. To a preternaturally shy and private person like me, it feels incredibly awkward and uncouth. It is almost like pulling teeth. But it does work.

Email accounts for a relatively high 21.4% of all orders, with a rather average 2.4% conversion rate. Some of my well-meaning friends and family members took it upon themselves to order multiple copies. I had to restrain my sister from purchasing 100 copies and have them sent in a crate all the way to Israel.  

Still, it turns out that friends and family are in fact happy to help. They care. They have a direct, personal stake in your success. That is why they are your friends and family.

I have written a book. Should I crowdfund it through Inkshares?

Yes. Most definitely. Here's why: Inkshares translates the lean startup methodology to book publishing. (The lean startup methodology is an industry standard: it is used by many software companies to integrate market and users’ feedback into their product development cycle, so as to continually improve their offering and to minimize the risk of failure).

By removing the first layer of gatekeepers, the literary agents and the editors at legacy publishing houses, Inkshares allows authors to directly test the commercial viability of their work. Inkshares' site is set up to allow readers and prospective buyers to share their comments and feedback. This is akin to what the lean startup methodology calls validated learning: users' feedback leads to incremental product improvements, thus mitigating the risk of missing the mark.

As far as the publishing business is concerned, Inkshares' process of rapid prototyping and users' feedback looks like the future. Thanks to the Internet, it is devilishly efficient at weeding out the duds and at validating books with commercial potential. In addition, it is close to impossible to decide what to read among the millions and millions of books that populate Amazon (whether they are self-published or not). Inkshares solves that nagging problem of surfacing and curating appealing content.

Just like launching a startup, it is not for the faint of heart. It can be brutal for the author. The fruit of your labor crashes into the marketplace without much of a cushion. It is scary. You can't take it personally but you will, inevitably, because a book is a book, not a software package.

In conclusion:

In summary, while my book's lucky break was not planned, it was not entirely lucky either. Consequently, I cannot know whether such outcome is reproducible for every other crowdfunding campaign. That being said, if your work can garner the interest of influential people, and if you can convince them to lend it their support, this will probably raise your profile and improve your prospects.

Overall, Trekonomics reached its funding goal by deploying rather conventional marketing methods. Technology (social media, blogs, crowdfunding platforms) has created new venues for exposure. Yet, in these new spaces, the same influencers, gatekeepers and tastemakers have retained their clout and their ability to steer the public conversation.

The old, tried and true recipes work. And interested readers still seek and value the advice of experts and of reputable news outlets. Ultimately I believe this bodes well for both books and aspiring authors.

As for the publishing industry, I do not really know. Inkshares has allowed me to sidestep the usual intermediaries (most notably, literary agents). The crowdfunding campaign functions as an opportunity to advertise the book and build momentum well ahead of release. 

Again, thank you all for your support. The book will be out as soon as possible. We are working on it!

Live Long, and Prosper

Manu

Extract from Chapter 30 of mystery-comedy novel, 'The Investigations of the Para-Usual':

The professor cleared his throat and turned back to the operations board.

‘Dr Pratt and I…’

‘Stop!’ interrupted Persil.

O’Singh appeared startled.

‘Is that a jacket you actually wear?’ she asked, stepping forward to tug at O’Singh’s linen suit jacket.

The professor mumbled something in the affirmative.

‘You know you can’t talk to people looking like that. You’ve got to be packing a leather jacket. Though not one that’s too young for you. That says something about you trying to be something you’re not anymore. Not a good message. Not a good look. And those glasses. Hello?’

‘She has a point doesn’t she, O’Singh?’ said Woo searchingly, keen to keep the non-discussion going.

After a moment’s contemplation, O’Singh cleared his throat again and recommenced. ‘I was explaining what we know…’

‘Uh-ah! Stop! There you go. Why should I care about knowing anything?’ interrupted Persil again. ‘Look at you, prof! Have a good look at yourself. Do you even know how you would come across on television? No-one, I mean “no one” would listen to you.’

‘You couldn’t see yourself caring about knowing anything, Ms Bland?’ said Woo, picking up on Persil’s statement. ‘That’s interesting, isn’t it, O’Singh? – your new assistant not caring about what you are trying to do, discovering everything?’

O’Singh thought about nodding.

‘Because,’ said Woo, slowly, while he thought of a reason why that could be and before O’Singh could answer, ‘because your radical new approach to thinking requires, does it not, that anybody should be able to work out what you do?’

‘Yes, that is quite a truthful statement,’ answered O’Singh, thoughtfully, as if there was some compensation in what Woo said. He grabbed and pulled on his haversack, and swung towards the door.

‘Are you going so soon?’ Woo called out after him.

O’Singh turned ever so briefly with a wan smile and continued on his way.

‘Didn’t I do well to find you an assistant, O’Singh?’ jibed Woo, cheerfully, just as the professor was exiting.

‘I must find my old assistant,’ answered O’Singh, over his shoulder.

‘O’Singh!’ stormed Woo. ‘Bwarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Do not defy orders! Do not even think about trying to bring back that Pratt! You hear me? Parp! Patter-patter!’

O’Singh stopped and looked back, about to make a reply.

‘Otherwise you will find yourself joining him, out of a job,’ warned Woo.

O’Singh turned and disappeared, half-spurred on by flight from flatulence.

‘Well,’ said Woo, half to himself, half to Persil – who was regarding him in a transfixed way, rather in the manner of a cameo actor in a horror B movie – ‘our first meeting appears to have gone rather well,’ he continued, reverting to his former sweetness.

Extract from Chapter 29 of mystery-comedy novel, 'The Investigations of the Para-Usual':

‘Tell me what you know,’ said Persil in a curly Scottish accent.

‘Well, this here is our operations board…’ O’Singh begun to explain, in an uncharacteristically flat tone. The atmosphere in the IPU laboratory, too, lacked vigour.

‘No, no,’ said Persil, abruptly, reverting to her clipped English accent. ‘Tell me what you know about what I just said.’

‘Uh, let me see now,’ said O’Singh, at a loss. ‘You asked me what I know.’

‘Yes, I did!’ replied Persil petulantly, ‘but I said it in a funny voice. In Scottish!’ she said, confounded by O’Singh’s slowness on the uptake. ‘Don’t you know anything?’ she said, suddenly now laughing. ‘I do impersonations of people.’

‘Oh?’ said O’Singh, more perplexed than interested. ‘Who were you impersonating?’ he asked, out of politeness.

‘Mary Queen of Scots.’

‘Mary Queen of Scots the 16th century Queen of England?’ asked O’Singh.

‘Duh!’ commented Persil.

‘And Mary Queen of Scots famously said, “Tell me what you know”?’ persevered O’Singh.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Persil, agitatedly. ‘Most people would have to say “Tell me what you know” at some stage in their life, wouldn’t they? Whether they’re famous for it or not. Mary was no different.’

Extract from Chapter 28 of mystery-comedy novel, 'The Investigations of the Para-Usual':

‘... And if I may go one step further, as it were gentlemen, and, of course, gentlelady,’ said O’Singh, including the young woman, ‘we may make one more connection.’

O’Singh wrote again on the board a further link: Airport Stair Vans – Zebra Crossings

‘Zebra crossings?’ enquired Cohen, not a little curious.

‘Do not let him squander any more of your time, sir,’ urged Woo.

‘If I may prevail, zebra crossings we know can also help people with issues of low self-esteem because they empower. Anyone, no matter how wretched, may approach a zebra crossing and cars are compelled to stop for them. The so-called ‘wretch’ senses, “I am worth something at least – I am worth not running over.”’

‘And how does that help us?’ asked Cohen.

‘Similarly, how does that hinder us?’ added Woo, keen to say something to back up the politician.

‘Dr Pratt, Woo tells me you took responsibility for you and Professor O’Singh going out to make this investigation,’ said Cohen, gravely.

‘Yes I did, sir,’ answered the emboldened Dr Pratt.

‘If you had bothered to get with the program, you would realise that the Government is passionately against all forms of things that are not environmentally friendly. Especially now with all that’s been going on around us. You go out and you find good things about airports when aeroplanes are spewing out carbon dioxide like it’s going out of fashion.’

‘It is going out of fashion,’ argued Dr Pratt.

‘Okay. Well, the opposite then – like it’s coming into fashion. Woo, here, also tells me that you have acted in defiance of his authority, suggesting an attitude problem.’

‘I voice my opinion if that is what you mean, sir?’ answered Dr Pratt, defiantly.

Cohen exchanged a significant look with Woo before steeling himself to continue.

‘Dr Pratt, I’m afraid we are going to have to let you go.’

Extract from Chapter 27 of mystery-comedy novel, 'The Investigations of the Para-Usual': 

O’Singh bowed his head and threw a guiding paw round the shoulder of Dr Pratt back towards the escalator walkway.

‘This is the para-usual thing… we humans are praised all the better if we are positioned slightly higher than everyone else.’

‘You mean in status?’ asked Dr Pratt.

‘No, I mean we hold people aloft when they have achieved something. In the sports arena. The boxer, for instance. You see now this is further to my connection with our boxer and the alternative investment scheme?’

The operatives stepped onto the walkway taking them back to the departure hall.

‘Right. So, boxers are lifted onto shoulders when they triumph,’ said Dr Pratt, slowly catching on.

‘And sports people climb stairs to claim their prize. We have the Football Association Cup winners mounting the steps to receive the trophy at Wembley football stadium; the medal-winning Olympic athletes stepping up onto the dais.’

‘There are three levels aren’t there? The highest step for the winner of the more precious metal, gold, used in the finest jewellery; another slightly lower step for the lesser desired decorative metal, silver; and the lowest for bronze, something you make door knockers out of.’

‘Very important – if you are the winner – you are going to want to take the biggest step upstairs,’ said O’Singh, knowledgeably. ‘And here is a thought… when we have seen our sports team lose to another in a game in which we felt ours was the better side...’

‘Allow me to make a suggestion, O’Singh,’ chimed Dr Pratt. ‘If you’re in the crowd, you could quite as easily chant at the players of the undeserving opposing team going up to receive the cup, something like – and I am going to sing to the tune of “Go West” by the Pet Shop Boys …’

‘Oh yes, is that not indeed a tune oft covered by the a capella chanters in football crowds?’ asked O’Singh.

‘Yes, yes. Here we go,’ said Dr Pratt, clearing his throat before bursting into song:

‘“Stop going upstairs! Come down! You should be going downstairs really, or at the very least along a level!”’

Dr Pratt faltered trying to shoehorn the lyrics as best he could into the Go West tune.

‘That is quite a lot to chant,’ said O’Singh carefully, respectful to the feelings of Dr Pratt he felt he might offend by directly challenging his remark. ‘I have found it does help when you chant, to keep it to a few choice words.’

Extract from Chapter 27 of mystery-comedy novel, 'The Investigations of the Para-Usual': 

Off they trundled in silence, O’Singh absorbing everything – the aircraft taxiing outside, the aspirational wall posters, the grooves between the metal slats of the escalator. One moving walkway after another they continued like this until at last, O’Singh spoke again.

‘Think,’ he said, turning to the doctor, ‘how did we board aeroplanes before we had these giant sausage tunnel things we have now with a kink in them?’

‘We climbed steps?’ offered Dr Pratt, pumping his legs with a high knee action, rather as one might in a human dressage.

‘Exactly so, Dr Pratt. Do you recall the vehicles that transported the steps?’

‘Yes, you mean the vans with a staircase on the back?’

‘Ab-abso-absa-absolutely. Think now, para-usually about those stair vans.’

‘I can’t begin to think. What’s your inkling?’

‘Here is a thing. There is an employee of the airport whose job it is to drive his stair van up to aeroplanes ready for boarding. Now, imagine him driving back home of an evening after work, parking it up in front of his council tenement block.’

‘Assuming that he lives in a council flat.’

‘Let us say for sake of argument. He is in his flat, several stories high, his airline jacket flung across an armchair. He has slackened his tie. His missus, the wife, the trouble and strife, is cooking his tea.’

O’Singh guided Dr Pratt off of the escalator they were on, away from the stream of travellers and over to a bank of bucket seats set against the wall of the causeway. There, O’Singh closed his eyes, took a deep breath and transformed himself into the stair van man’s wife, employing a pumping motion of his right arm as if frying a sausage or perhaps some bacon, depending on the hard-of-understanding interpretation; his other hand simultaneously chugging at an imaginary cigarette.

“’Ere, ‘ow many bangers d’you want, love?” (It was clear now that O’Singh was improvising the wife frying sausages and not bacon.)

O’Singh plonked himself down on a seat and took on the role of the stair van man sat at a table reading his newspaper.

‘“Couple. No make it three”,’ replied O’Singh’s ravenous stair van man.

“Oh right, I’ll ‘ave to get you another one out the fridge”,’ said O’Singh, jumping up out of his seat to pose as his wife.

The professor flounced across to a glass pane looking out over a docking bay, where he mimed sweeping aside what Dr Pratt deduced were curtains of the kitchen window. O’Singh made a pantomime of shielding his eyes and peering down to something far below.

‘“What’s that din?”’ said O’Singh’s housewife, craning her neck. ‘“Ooh! The little bugbears”.’

‘“What?”’ replied the stair van man, as soon as O’Singh could fling himself back again into the bucket seat.

‘“Them kids…”’ puffed the professor, hauling himself up to the window once more. ‘“Them kids are up your stairs thinkin’ their Sammy Davis Junior again.”’

‘Sammy Davis Junior, the cabaret singer? The old-time American stage entertainer?’ asked Dr Pratt.

Massive thanks to the amply generous Tony Higgs for pre-ordering not one but THREE copies of The Investigations of the Para-Usual. Tony is a philosopher. Currently he is contemplating how much one would pay for a negotiating table.

Extract from Chapter 26 of mystery-comedy novel, 'The Investigations of the Para-Usual': 

Dr Pratt stood staring deeply into Woo’s eyes for any signs of betrayal. O’Singh was lost somewhere in his thoughts detached from the altercation.

‘O’Singh, tread carefully. Do not fall into his trap!’ muttered Dr Pratt. ‘Unless, …’ he drawled, in the way one does when one has just grasped something of significance ‘…unless you want to tread so you do fall in.’

‘The what?’ responded O’Singh, incoherently, post-reverie.

‘Take the mouse,’ continued Dr Pratt, enigmatically, pointing at Woo with an outstretched arm, as if he were staying some venomous snake.

‘The small rodent, yes,’ said O’Singh, considering Dr Pratt’s remark.

‘Well they are about average size for a rodent. Not as big as a vole…’

‘Or as small as a shrew. Yes, we are beginning to build a much more accurate sense of where the mouse lies on the rodent spectrum.’

‘Take the mouse as your example,’ reiterated Dr Pratt. ‘It may regard the mousetrap as a mouse WMD, or if it has more the equivalent of human bomb disposal expertise, that trap looks like a decent supply of cheese.’

‘And what do you mean?’ asked O’Singh, simply.

‘I mean let’s go. Source the decent supply of cheese down the airport – down Heathrow.’

‘Metaphorically?’

‘Yes, metaphorically, unless you want to eat cheese at the airport as well.’

‘I could have a cheese sandwich down there. I am peckish.’

‘Well, you might be better advised on a prior purchase. Airports are kinda pricey… but come on, let’s go.’

Woo watched silently as Dr Pratt scooped up his brief case and hurried O’Singh to the door.

‘Or I could have some kind of departure hall cheese snack,’ suggested O’Singh.

‘Have it your way!’ bellowed Woo, Vesuvius-like, at the operatives as they crossed the laboratory threshold.

‘Remember I tried to help!’ thundered Woo, melodramatically from the doorway to the receding figures of O’Singh and Dr Pratt, eating up corridor. ‘Do not go to the airport! Dr Pratt, do not defy me! Come back! You hear me? Don’t say I didn’t warn you!’ he yelled, picking phrases that might constitute a traditional warning.

Dr Pratt waved from just before the turn in the corridor. And they were gone.

‘You will never work in this town…!’ hollered Woo, trailing off at the end of his warning, either because one no longer needs to complete the phrase with the word ‘again’ to get this particular message across, or because he couldn’t be bothered.

Extract from Chapter 26 of mystery-comedy novel, 'The Investigations of the Para-Usual':

‘Gentlemen, I extend an olive branch to you. An olive bough. An olive trunk even – there, some bulkier support structure of the olive tree. A bulkier support structure of the olive tree,’ repeated Woo, pleased with the sound of this reassurance. ‘We should seek to work together. To collaborate. We must. After all, what we are doing is working towards a common goal.’

‘Yes, well perhaps we should,’ agreed O’Singh, generously.

‘What the devil are you talking about?’ demanded Dr Pratt, less inclined to generosity.

‘I’ve decided to help you,’ said Woo to Dr Pratt, turning away from him very deliberately, before he had completed the pledge.

‘He’s not to be trusted,’ Dr Pratt warned O’Singh in a low growl.

‘Come, come, Dr Pratt,’ said Woo, wheeling back round to face his subordinate. ‘We simply got off on the wrong foot. If I wasn’t trying to help, why would I come now to offer you a sure-fire, dead-cert tip on how to impress the Government?’

Dr Pratt noticed O’Singh advance, drawn in by Woo’s extraordinary offer.

‘Don’t heed him!’ Dr Pratt hissed at O’Singh. ‘Look away, he’s trying to be nice!’

‘But I come in peace,’ cooed Woo, opening his hands as if to prove he was not concealing a weapon. ‘Do not please, Dr Pratt, I entreat you, offend me lightly, less so heavily. I have happened to find out something to your advantage, what would impress the Government greatly, and I am willing to share.’

‘If we cannot take it, please, let us at least hold the olive branch,’ urged O’Singh diplomatically, entreating Woo to continue. ‘Edge ourselves a little closer so we might perhaps brush past it?’ he said, extending the metaphor. ‘Or so we might perhaps sniff at the olive branch…?’

‘I have it on good authority, and pray do not ask me to divulge from whom, that the Government strongly urges you not to investigate what is good about air travel.’ Woo bit his lip regretfully as though he had said it now and there was nothing he could do to take it back.