The Self Publishing Dilemma

I used to sneer at the idea of self publishing. Until recently*, I considered it as the last resort of writers, or the domain of those wealthy enough to throw away their money on producing books that a publisher should be creating. I also thought it was just too much work. My biggest problem with the process, though, was that it seemed like no books that were self published were ever taken seriously, or considered true literature. I thought I would rather remain unknown than see my work marred by sub par printing and the contempt of other writers.

*Recently being a matter of weeks, here. I had one of those rare mental reversals which happen infrequently in my life.

Notice the past tense of the last paragraph. Yep, lately my mind has been revolving the idea of self publishing with very different feelings. What caused this paradigm shift?

I was browsing one of my favored websites, www.librarything.com, and stumbled on a group called Writer's Rag and Bag. Idly curious, I scrolled through the threads and found one all about self publishing. Most of the people commenting were authors who only had a few books published, and many of them only had work that was self published. Nonetheless, these people were labeled as LibraryThing authors, and the majority of the comments were intelligent and reasonable (when someone did post a comment that was riddled with grammar and syntax errors, the other group members took him to task for not being professional). Multiple people recommended marketing yourself on places like facebook, Twitter, and Amazon. In fact, it seemed that a lot people had ebooks being sold on Amazon, without earning the coveted esteem of a publishing contract. A realization started to sink in - as technology gains momentum, and ebooks become the norm and paper books a relic (a future that makes me cringe, I assure you, as I am a staunch proponent of physical libraries and the smell of book stores), how long are agents and publishing houses going to be relevant?

The train of thoughts rumbled forward, and I began to wonder why I felt it so necessary to see my books published through the tried and true channels. Was it because of the money? Well, yes, a little bit, but my family is surviving comfortably, and I have the sneaking suspicion that God never intended us to be rich. Was it because of the justification? Most definitely. I would know that my writing has merit in eyes other than my own, and that would be such gratification that I can't begin to express it. Was it because of the possibility of fame? Yeah, that too, but there again, I think my life is better off without much fame or delusions of grandeur. If, on the other hand, I did self publish, I would have the satisfaction of seeing something I wrote in print. My friends and family could buy a copy of my book. I could do a little online grass roots advertising to gather interest. I wouldn't stop pursuing the traditional method (Did I say pursuing? If pursuing means accosting two agents who seemed to fit the novel and being rejected. A better word would be beginning.) but I would at least have something to show for my work in the meantime.

Thus, here I am, in a dilemma. The funny aspect of the whole debate is that either choice means hard work, and that is exactly what I have not been doing with my writing lately. Actually, I haven't been doing much writing, period. Any new move that spurs me to stick with my art is a welcome move. I have a feeling that powers greater than mine led me to that forum on that particular day - I had the same providential feeling when I decided to study education, and looking back, I know God's hand was over that journey every step of the way - and I better take the hint and get writing.

Back to the original intention of this blog: to chronicle my writing, my attempts at publication, and the books that always distract me. Time to persist, Nicole, persist.