“AI is going to kill books.”

That’s the refrain echoing across panels, Slack channels, and op-eds. We believe that absolutely will happen…unless the publishing industry takes a completely new approach to this newest technological threat to books. That new approach requires strategy, fearlessness, and investment. But the alternative, this time, is existential.

Fear isn’t unfounded. But fear is not a strategy. Strategy means acknowledging that AI is already here, already in our workflows, and already shaping how readers find stories. The real danger isn’t the tool. It’s how the industry responds.

We know because we’ve seen this before. In 2010, the Kindle was a few years old, Amazon was slashing hardcover prices to $9.99, and publishers were careening towards a DOJ collusion case. The official line in boardrooms still seemed to be “It’s the wild west.” Which translated to: we don’t have a plan.

Even as twenty-somethings fresh in the business, we could see it. The West wasn’t wild anymore. It was lost. And the ones who froze, lost it.

Fast-forward to 2024. A Big Five executive sits on an AI panel, gets asked how his house is preparing for this technological shift, and repeats the exact same line: “It’s the wild west.” Same shrug. Same movie. Same ending… unless we change the script. This is Next Chapter AI's origin story.

Let’s get something straight.

AI is autocorrect. It's the algorithm fueling social media. It’s also Claude. It’s been here.

Publishers have staked some claims around AI training on creators’ books. But most conversations are still about whether AI is “good” or “evil.” And the models are doubling in capability every six months.

Every moment of paralysis halves your competitive edge.

AI isn’t coming, it’s at the door.

And AI isn’t just shaping how books get made and sold, it’s changing discovery.

Search engines, social platforms, and recommendation systems are all being rebuilt on AI. That means books will be surfaced differently, found differently, and missed differently. Publishing personnel across agencies and houses have an extremely short window before AI decides for us how books and this new technology will coexist.

In 2016, the late Michael Shatzkin — one of the sharpest minds publishing ever had — wrote about “the calm after the storm.” He urged the industry to use the comparative calm after ebooks’ initial splash to retrain, upskill, and integrate “new people with relevant skills.” 

His advice? Largely ignored.

Think that’s harsh? Well, we remember when digital books were going to open up new revenue streams and formats. They never did.

Now we’re in the calm before the storm. And this tsunami will dwarf ebooks.

Above all: fear is no strategy; the shrug is not a plan.

And we’re also the old people who love this industry fiercely and refuse to watch it repeat the same self-defeating patterns.

Both of our individual companies, Quill Shift and Queen Mab Media, were founded by insiders who became outsiders. Together, we’ve worked every part of the business — agenting, marketing, sales, editorial. We know the pitfalls, and we know the potential. 

So let’s be specific about what “learning” looks like. It means mapping our processes, identifying the repetitive tasks that sap creative time, and training teams to use AI ethically and effectively so marketing and publicity staff can ideate more and reach more readers, contracts staff can stop retyping boilerplates, rights departments can actually chase new markets, and finance can pay creators more than twice a year (as we’ve been doing since the 1890s). That would be nice.

Creators are watching closely. And what they see is disconcerting: shrinking advances, shrinking staffs, layoffs wrapped in the language of “AI efficiency.” Each one deepens the cracks of trust already there.

The status quo isn’t benign. For years, the industry has justified thin pay and thin staffing with thin margins. But to reject AI outright — the very thing that could relieve those margins, increase efficiency, and give staff breathing room — is to lock ourselves into austerity. That’s not a strategy. That’s decay in real time.

What writers deserve is not absolutism or fearmongering but instruction, tools, and thoughtful guardrails. A future where AI takes the grunt work so editors can edit, marketers can market, publicists can pitch — and creators can create. Used wisely, AI doesn’t erase creativity; it clears the space for it. A tool is not evil, but how a tool is used does matter.

Self-publishing was once a dirty word. Now it’s mainstream. AI is moving faster than ebooks did. If publishing keeps feeding fear instead of fostering understanding, more creators will opt out — hybrid, indie, or anywhere that feels less dismissive. Traditional publishing, which at its best remains a remarkable, culture-shaping force, will lose the very talent it exists to amplify.

The real enemy isn’t AI. The real enemy is paralysis.

It’s the shrug dressed up as strategy. It’s fear disguised as wisdom. It’s the nostalgic story that if we wait this out, we’ll be fine. Paralysis cost us the ebook era; inertia handed Amazon the book market. If we let those same forces rule again, AI won’t just take a slice of publishing — it will decide publishing’s future for us.

So what do we do instead of freezing or fawning? We center the writer.

Those who currently bear the most weight and receive the smallest share of relief. The rise of digital communication forced creators to learn skills no previous generation had to master — writing copy for social media posts, design, audience analytics, DIY tour logistics.

We can hand much of that back to the system by giving creators a roadmap to using AI to get them back to their craft: writing, illustrating, creating. It’s stewardship of the one resource we can’t replace: a creator's singular voice. Used intentionally, AI can turn the modern creator's workload back into a writing-forward craft.

And we must recognize that forging this new path won’t be bump-free.

As a community, let’s try to have this conversation with empathy for each other as we find our way. Don’t cancel someone for trying in good faith, even if you think AI is an artistic sin. Bumps are survivable if we keep learning. More about AI. More about the ins and outs of our own business, which can be siloed and opaque. AI can get us the data this industry has seemed allergic to, but which creators deserve, and only makes professionals’ jobs easier. As an industry, we know knowledge is power and we must learn and grow if we’re going to keep carrying forward the book — this essential, vital technology — for its next 250 years.

The storm is already forming. Judges are ruling. Models are evolving. Workflows are shifting whether we act or not. We can either be rolled under by that wave, or be the people who learn to ride it.