It's easy to forget readers. They are the people who go out to bookshops and buy books. They are the ones who decide, by their choices, which ones become 'best sellers'; which authors prosper and which flounder; which books are remembered and which are forgotten.

The problem, for readers, is that most people in the world of books underestimate them. Critics think that they decide which books are best. Publishers think that since they decide which books get published, then they are the ones who makes authors rich or not.

It's not true.

I remember, when my daughter was about 11, she brought home a book from school, that had been lent to her by a friend. She took it to bed and stayed up most of the night reading it. She loved it. She read it again, then lent it to another friend. They formed a little circle, a junior appreciation society, and when the author came to town and appeared at a book signing, they loyally queued up for hours to get her autograph.

The author was called Rowling and the book featured a hero called Harry Potter.

It's difficult to think now, after all the hype, that once upon a time Harry Potter wasn't famous (and a film star), and his author wasn't hugely successful and widely read. But it's true. My daughter and her friends, of course, hadn't read a single review. They didn't know that they were supposed to love this new young wizard. They just did.

Worse, for the history of the myths that publishers spread amongst themselves, publishers had been slow to appreciate the possibilities of the Harry Potter books. Many had rejected the author's submissions outright. The one publisher who decided to take a chance on the unknown and untested author initially ordered a very small print run, and was surprised when it sold out. And when it sold out again. And again.

Even worse, for the stories that publishers make up about themselves, they got the biggest blockbuster of the decade wrong too. You've heard of it. It's called 'The Da Vinci Code'. It was recently made into a successful film, but several years ago - unbelievably - the manuscript was languishing after having been turned down by a succession of publishers. The author, Dan Brown - now one of the most famous people on the planet - had written a handful of novels that - until the 'Code' breakthrough - had attracted minimal interest. According to 'the experts', he was going nowhere. What went wrong - for their predictions? The answer, of course, is readers.

Readers of the book told their friends about it. It started a buzz, and that became a tidal wave.

It wasn't critics who told people to buy Dan Brown, anymore than it was critics who made J.K.Rowling a star. It was the readers. It wasn't publishers' hype that made the books successful, either. It was the interest shown by the public.

Publishers, of course, explain that away. Such aberrations, they seem to say, are a mere hiccup in the smooth transition of daily business in the world of publishing. Most days, they say, they scan the manuscripts that arrive on their desks and pick the winners. It's not true.

If it was true, they'd already have the next Dan Brown and the next J.K.Rowling waiting in the wings. But the truth is, they can't find them and they have no idea what they look like. The publishers are floundering in the dark. As usual.

The coup-de-grace for traditional publishers, of course, is the internet. Readers now can go to their computers and find anything they want. Whether it's a left-handed screwdriver, an unlisted pharmaceutical, or murder mysteries with a hint of romance, they can track them down on the web and order up the books they want through an on-line bookstore.

They can also communicate with authors, view their web sites and send them comments. This means that most authors these days have a much better idea what their readers want than anyone else in the chain.

I'm an internet author. I write the kinds of books you can drink a mug of cocoa to. Kick off your shoes, lean back in your easy chair, and relax with one of my stories. They're traditional, and easy to follow. There's a beginning, a middle and an end. There's not much sex and no swearing at all.

They don't set out to shock, (although there might be surprises). If I write a murder mystery, then first there's a crime and secondly someone comes in to investigate. The puzzle is solved and people can move on with their lives. If I write a romance, then there's a man and a woman, falling in love. Of course, I tend to write Action Adventures, so when men get involved with my hero Amelia Hartliss, they often get swept along and then left by the wayside, (a bit like a female James Bond).

I don't get any complaints. From readers. People who buy my books nod their heads and say with a smile that they enjoyed reading them. They know they're not great literature, and they're not worried: that's not what they want. What they do want is rattling good yarns that take themselves out of themselves for a while and allow them time to think about the world.

That's not what publishers want. Since most publishers only want to impress other publishers, they need books that are 'challenging', 'ground breaking', and capable of winning awards.

When publishers look at my books they say they're 'traditional'. (That's right. I just said that.) They say they're mundane and ordinary. They say they're predictable. That's right.

So I should be selling millions, right? Because all those things are exactly what readers want!

There's the old story about a romantic novelist out on a signing tour. She was sitting in a bookshop, putting her name to books that people brought her. One fan came up and raved about the book she was holding. She loved it, she said. When was the author going to write another like it? The author turned it over in her hand. It was the story of a young woman who played the violin. She joined a prestigious metropolitan orchestra and fell in love with the conductor, a strong-willed, tempestuous man, with a shady past and driving demons. The author smiled. Music, eh? Well, she said, she had been toying with a story of a woman who played the clarinet, joined a jazz band and fell in love with the trumpet player. The fan looked disappointed. Struggling, the author said that she supposed she could write a story about a young female percussionist who joined an orchestra and fell in love with the composer-in-residence. Again, the fan looked crestfallen.

It took a while, but eventually the author appreciated that her admirer wanted nothing more than another story that featured a woman who didn't play anything other than the violin. That the musical combo was nothing else but an orchestra. And that the moody hero just had to be a conductor. Nothing else would do.

In other words, it had to be exactly the same story as the one before! The reader wanted a reprise. A repeat. A sequel - that was the same - and didn't go off in new directions.

That's boring for writers to write, and unexciting for publishers to publish. But it's what readers want.

Still, who ever listens to readers?