It is said that one of the worst things you can do for yourself as a writer is read up on all the discouraging tales about trying to get published. I do that. I've also been known to engage in another practice that's bad for writers and that is to track the progress of other writers, especially those that make me seriously question the tastes of both the publishing industry and the reading public. It's kind of a mental condition, a self-imposed form of torture quite similar to looking at the profiles of people you dislike on MySpace and whatnot. (Oh come now...surely I'm not the only one who does that?)
I read on a blog or a plog or something of the equivalent once in which a writer said people only ever ask of a book, "How in the hell did this get published?" because their own failure as a writer led them to feel bitter about the success of other writers. It's probably true, but...I also read somewhere else, once, that writers are notoriously envious of their more successful peers. Why, because we're all trying to accomplish the same goal and just like musicians who probably think they're better musicians who've worked harder to make it than those musicians that actually have, well, it's just somewhat annoying when as a writer you read something that basically sucks yet have to accept its commercial success.
What I'm getting at isn't that I'm jealous of successful writers who write sucky books (even though I can admit I actually am, and fuck, why not, because it may be that I write sucky books, too, and can't figure out why their sucky books are being published and not mine), it's that I'm actually wondering what causes the yearning for recognition? Where does it come from? Musicians have the potential of living the rockstar lifestyle if they make it, but most writers can plan on keeping a day job unless they're the next Danielle Steel, Jackie Collins, Tom Clancy, John Grisham, J.K. Rowling...you get the picture, and the simple fact is that most writers aren't looking at that kind of success. I remember someone asking me at a previous job why I was working there after having a book published and me just having to laugh. Hard. I think I figured out that when all was said and done financially, I made about 8 cents an hour writing, querying, reworking, editing, rewriting, losing sleep over and wanting to shred Love Like That.
So every now and then I do kick around the idea of self-publishing because there's nothing dishonorable about it and I think done right, there's the potential to make a lot more money at it. Marketed well, any book could reach the right audience. (See sucky books getting rave reviews and idling happily on bestseller lists.)
So what stops me?
The recognition factor. That rush of having one of the keyholders/gatekeepers of the publishing industry come back to report that of all the many, many manuscripts he or she has slogged through lately, mine stood out. So let's go to task and sell it!
Seems ridiculous when I consider that editors are buying for 2009 right now and a self-publishing service could have my new novel for sale on Amazon before the end of this year.
Also seems ridiculous to justify traditional publishing versus self-publishing with the thought that only traditional publishers can really get books into bookstores. I remember when LLT first came out I visited every bookstore within a 20-mile radius of my house and was disappointed many times to find it missing from the inventory. (I was, however, cheered to find it at the Borders Express in Dulles airport last Thanksgiving. Who knew? It has since been sold...but not replaced.) Anyway, two and a half years after publication, LLT's bookstore presence can only be described as ghostly and its Amazon availability is fading fast.
So I'm thinking about this self-publishing thing more and more. As we move further into the age of online superstardom (see blithering idiot who screams in defense of Britney on YouTube is now getting is own TV show--wonder how aspiring actors who've actually studied the craft and are living on food service wages between auditions feel about that?), it seems to make more and more sense.
Of course, I'm still hoping that one of the agents I've queried will write back to say he or she wants to read New Novel and afterward, will call to say he or she also wants to represent it--because again, I digress...recognition. If I publish my book, hey, that's great--but it doesn't mean it's good.
Here I go digressing again, though...the simple truth in publishing is that all you need is one person to love your book even if a thousand of that person's peers have already deemed it sucky--so what's the reasoning, there?
I'll never know.
I can't think of any clever way to end this post so I'll tell you (what I think) is a funny story. After living in my apartment for a year and a half, I decided to use the oven for the first time. After about twenty minutes, I couldn't figure out why my frozen fish fillets weren't cooking.
Yeah, it probably would have helped to actually turn the oven on.
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2 comments:
Sorry I'm your blogstalker now, but I MUST comment because I think about this topic all the time--the need for recognition, that is. I'd like to think I'm above the need for it, but I'd only be fooling myself. Truthfully, I tend to rank the value of an opinion according to its source--my own opinion of anything I do being at the bottom, followed closely by that of my parents, close friends, and upwards to publishers (or the equivalent, for those of us who aren't novelists) on top. It's really backwards when I think about it that way...
On the rare occasions when I cook for myself, I never forget to turn the oven on; however, I frequently forget to turn it off when I'm done. Miraculously, this has never resulted in a fire (just a blazing hot apartment).
Are you kidding me, I love it that you're my blogstalker!
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