Writing is the easy part of
self-publishing. The words flow, the pages fill, and then you’re sighing with satisfaction
as you place that last period. After a year of self-discipline, concentrated
story-telling, and four hundred pages later you experience closure. There is
little time to celebrate as characters from the next story begin to stir to
life. And this is, after all, why we write, right?
Yes, it is, but if you ever expect to share your
story with readers beyond your circle of friends and family, and if you ever
hope to recoup some remuneration for your hours of labor and imagination, you
will, by necessity, find yourself wading into the swamp of editing, marketing,
publicity, and accounting. It’s dirty, frustrating, and often humiliating, but
it must be done if you want to call yourself a writer.
True, it wasn’t always like this. I’m sure Mark
Twain didn’t have to worry about getting Huck and Tom from his imagination to
the end-reader. And Virginia Woolf had a brother-in-law in the publishing
business, so she never had to worry about how she would popularize The
Lighthouse or Mrs. Dalloway. Self-publishing has leveled the playing field, but
it is has also put the burden of every aspect of publishing on the writer. I
hate it. But I don’t hate it enough to start submitting my books to traditional
publishing houses again.
While I’m sharing, you may as well know, I have a
B.S. in Marketing (B.S.- an apt abbreviation
if ever I saw one). Interestingly, most
of what I know about marketing my books, I’m learning as I go.
