Amazon Rapids—dialogue-only stories for kids

On 11/2/16, Amazon announced an app called Rapids. 

It intends to deliver a steady stream of original, custom-illustrated short stories aimed at young readers, all told entirely via conversation between/among two to four characters (whether "live" or via text). The story pops up one line at a time, like text messages.

Props to whoever came up with that clever name. "Rapids" fits with the stories (they're fast reads), it fits with Amazon (you may remember that it was a river before a web site), and it fits in the limited space under an app icon (only six characters).

The app costs $2.99/month or $29.99/year; it's available on handheld devices (not desktop or laptop computers). Sure, it's a gimmick…but not exactly a sure-thing one. It's not like kids are clamoring for more dialogue-only stories. 

But yes, it does take advantage of the ubiquitous text message format to help lure young people, even though they typically do not consider their phones a storytelling device. Yet because of smartphones, tweens and teens are doing non-school reading on a more regular basis than previous generations. (I'm not citing statistics; I'm just looking around the restaurant, cinema, airport, park, and yes, library.)

Hand-in-hand with this, they are also writing more. Prior to 2007, many kids wrote nothing over the summer. Now some with smartphones write enough in record time to fill notebooks. They are perpetual autobiographers. We all are now.

However, that doesn't mean they're reading (or writing) more of substance. Text messaging is not thoughtfully constructed, longer-form narrative. It's fragments, often with little regard to grammar or style.

But still, it's literacy.

Kids who love downloading stories into their brains the traditional way—via printed books—will continue to do so, but apps such as Rapids may interest kids who are NOT active readers. Anything that engages reluctant readers (and does not deter existing readers) is a win.

Like many writers, I have been telling stories across multiple platforms (namely books, blogs, and talks) since before smartphones. I can now add apps to that list. Among the stories Rapids launched with are ten I wrote, beginning in May 2016.

We must accept that digital technology is not going away. That's scary for some, but fear is often the core of change. And fear—therefore change—can be a good thing. Look at puberty. Look at moving. Look at subscription models of streaming services. Look at life itself.

When answering machines came along, the populace did not complain that these new devices would ruin the simpler era of missing phone calls. Instead they got used to a new normal.

Though technology is distracting for some kids, it also both motivates and enables more kids to read. It's widely discussed that bookstores are disappearing from rural communities (not to mention more developed areas), and sometimes the nearest library is, well, far. But smartphones seem to be everywhere (I even saw them in slums in India).

And amidst all this, one thing hasn't changed—the role of parents and teachers in setting boundaries. Now when you're waiting in line with bored or grumpy kids, you have an option that is a compromise—kids can have screen time, but TO READ. If the app does its job, it will help some kids realize that's not a chore but a joy.

A story is a story is a story. The delivery method is largely incidental. Filter out the generational emotional attachment to physical books and the effect is the same: you are entertained/educated.

I realize my tone here may seem defensive. That's because I was conflicted at first about participating in this project. Some authors vehemently decry digital storytelling.

But ultimately, what attracted me to contributing to Rapids was that gimmick. I liked the challenge of telling a story completely via dialogue. (Even plays have stage directions.)

In other words, the app is giving writers an opportunity to tell stories in a format that no other outlet offers, at least none I know of.

And it certainly doesn't mean I will stop writing books.

Among the press:

• Publishers Weekly
• CNN
• CNET
• New York (a critical look)

If you tweet about the app, please use #RapidsReader.

Bill Finger app

Friends and I got to talking and I mentioned I plan to develop apps based on a few of my books. One friend, Sara, said, “Bill Finger?”

We then collaborated on the idea for such an app: open the app and walk by any comic containing any Batman story and it will tell you if that Batman story was written by Bill Finger.

Last book standing

On 10/7/10, The New York Times ran an article about the decline of the picture book. The writer attributed this, in part, to parents pressuring their kids to read "big kid books" before they are, in fact, big kids.

Sorry I'm late to adding my voice to the kidlit backlash (not that I have anything more profound to say than the preceding wave of articulate responses), but these past few weekdays, I was busy speaking to hundreds of elementary students and their teachers...about picture books. (Among other things.)

Though I wanted an alternate allegory, the militant one does fit here: There is an army already mobilized to fight this war. We may not have the numbers of lawyers, bus drivers, or pastry chefs, but gaze at the children's section of a good library and I'd say we've got enough enlisted wordsmiths.

With every bookstore or school or library visit, authors are bolstering the picture book to an eager audience. And teachers generally need no persuading on the value of picture books.

In the press, something is routinely dying or dead: Innocence. Irony. Film musicals. Yet most manage to return before long.

And, of course, of late, much ink has been dedicated to the imminent death of ink. Now we are told that not only print text is dead, but print images as well. At the risk of sounding naive, perhaps the press should call for the death of hastily-written death proclamations.

For some time now, I've said if not the opposite than certainly an opposing notion: Picture books will be the last book standing. As digital options continue to overpower print ones, I do believe the type of book that will last the longest (as a printed book) will be the picture book (and, to a lesser degree, the photographic coffee table book, though they are rarely bestsellers). To be clear, though I do feel conflicted about it, I am all for progress and evolution...because I know storytelling will be a part of it no matter what.

So without being ignorant of the changing culture, I'd say this is enough said about this, for now anyway. Authors know our time is better spent creating books...and continually reminding people why we do that.

iNonfiction

Versatile author Tanya Lee Stone (whose honors include the 2010 Sibert for Almost Astronauts) blogged a ominous question: Will the Internet replace nonfiction books?

I posted a comment saying I don't think so but (like almost every other form of entertainment and education) nonfiction will have to evolve to have a presence in the digital domain. I look forward to the as-yet unthinkable.

Tanya posted a follow-up partially in response to my comment.

Nonfiction authors often write about pioneers. Now it's our turn to do some pioneering.

A book back into history

An accomplished animator who has recently shopped around a picture book asked me, “What are your feelings on the [publishing] industry? Do you feel that it is antiquated?”

For years we’ve heard drumbeats about the digital invasion, yet I was still jolted by his use of “antiquated.”

My response:

Like music and movies, book publishing must now urgently embrace change, but I don’t feel the industry is antiquated. Writers and artists should look at this as an online Oklahoma land grab, so to speak—they must race out and stake their claim to something new. Specifically, a new way of telling stories.

I do believe that within five years fewer physical books will be produced. And I think it’s likely that within a generation, few if any print-only novels will still be printed on paper.

But I don’t believe printed books will die out completely. In fact, I see this as an opportunity for publishers to offer more content and present it in creative ways.

I believe savvy publishers will offer two versions of a book at the same time—but each with their own “bonus features” so people might want to buy both book and iPad app. For example, a print picture book may contain unused character designs. The digital companion may contain a short film showing the artist at work. (Some publishers may already be offering a multi-platform book like this, and if not, it’ll happen momentarily.)

Or perhaps buying the hard copy will generate (on the receipt) a unique code that you can use to get a discount on the iPad app, or to unlock hidden features on it.

Perhaps it’s only delusional self-preservation, but I believe the format that has the best shot of remaining in print the longest is the picture book.

Digital dominance might force publishers to lower prices of paper books, but I believe as long as writers and artists produce good content—and are open to change—there is a model that will permit us to continue to do so.