Self-Publishing

Forgive me, but I'm all fired up with freedom in my belly.

I know it's not 4th of July anymore, but I'm talking about the freedom to self-publish.

It's still amazing to me how many writers aren't even putting themselves out there. They sit behind their computers and wait for rejection letters from agents. Or they say, "This genre won't sell so I'm not going to query an agent!"

So, I put on my self-pub cheer-leading outfit this morning and said "What the hell are you waiting for? Upload your shit to Smashwords and start making money!"

Apparently I offended some people.

I got into an argument (I thought it was a nice, civil disagreement, but after a nasty gram from the admin, I was told there were complaints) about the idea that "Agents won't take self-published work and self-publishing severely diminishes your chances of getting traditionally published."

My response:

Obvs, I was much nicer.

But I still pulled myself out of the group, since it was clear that this particular town wasn't buying my snake oil.

But here's my full response in hilarious .gif form:

Is it true that some agents won't take self-published work?

 
Is it true that some big-name publishers won't take self-published work?

Is it true that your entire publication life will be ruined and you'll never work in this town again?

It makes me sad that too many good writers are waiting on the sidelines because they're waiting for that "stamp" of approval from somebody who simply gets a paycheck from a company that says "Agency" or "Publishing."

(To be clear: Agents are some of the most hard-working and incredible people. But they are just... people. Just because you have an agent doesn't mean you'll make any money. Editors too - hard working, good people who do an amazing job. But they are...again...just people - and you can choose to take or leave their opinions)

I see people asking questions like, "Do I need to change my book in order to have an agent like me?" or "Agents don't like prologues, I should turn mine into chapter one."

And I'm over here like:

There's a lot in life I'm not clear about. Don't ask me how to put together a car engine, don't ask me how to perform quality assurance on a missile. Don't ask me about limits in calculus, either - the one concept I never understood.

But Double Life? I feel that shit in my soul.

It is exactly as I intended it to be (albeit with a few typos which I shall fix in the next version I upload).

It's the same level of confidence I feel about myself when I go out on dates. You think I'm too fat, too loud, too goofy, too intense?

Likewise, if an agent isn't getting my vision, or they don't want to take me on because I've self-published - who cares? You ain't for me, son.

I feel like in this business you have to have to know when to take criticism and when to smile and thank someone for their input (that's the consultant way of saying "Yeah, I'm not going to listen to you"). People will always have an opinion about your work, and you have to decide where it's legitimate and where it's just noise. If you're doing things with intention, then you should know what the difference is.

So yeah, I'm still querying agents, but I'm starting to wonder why. After all, the S. Usher Evans Train is full steam ahead towards comic-book conventions, book signings, the whole enchilada. So really, I'm actually wondering what an agent would provide that I'm not already doing for myself.

At the end of the day, even if I am rejected by every single agent, I'm the one laughing all the way to the bank. I'm the one with a series published (in 3 years) and five more on the way. I'm the one who has full control over the design and marketing of my work. I'm the one with the power to sell my book directly to readers, and keep 100% of my profits (minus sales tax). I don't need an agent to set up a library book reading or to buy a booth at a comic-book convention. I can do that - and am doing that - all by myself.

To each their own, I suppose. I guess I've just been drinking the self-published kool-aid for so long that I forgot other people are still sober. And it's just shocking to me to see how many people put their dreams and their happiness in the hands of others, just to be let down. I just want people to understand that they can make their own dreams come true.

So that, dear friends, was where I was coming from. But still - kicked out of a group before 9AM on a Sunday? I think that's a record.

Don't worry, I won't.

"And that's how I feel right now so just let me be..."

"It seems every time I find
A good man, he's got a good little wife
I'm not jealous, but I won't lie
I don't want to hear about your wonderful life
And babies! Everywhere I look
Trophy wives with their little black books
At this rate, I'm going to end up alone
Probably all my fault, all my fault
Oh, another dead end, again."

"How I Feel" - Kelly Clarkson

I want to state up front that this post is directed at no one in particular or intended to demean anyone's happiness.

'Cause I love you all :D

This post has been stewing for a while. In case you haven't noticed, this is part of my (self-directed) therapy, to take a feeling and write about it. 

The feeling that I've been having for a while is one which I can only describe as:

Failure?

Which is odd, for those of you who know me personally. Let's examine further. 

On paper, I am a very accomplished (young? can I still call myself that?) woman. I have a very awesome job were I do awesome things which I won't talk about here, but just know they're awesome. I have run not one, but TWO marathons, and signed up for a third. I own and remodeled my house (with my daddy, of course). And, in my spare time, I volunteer and foster homeless animals. Oh yeah, and I'm publishing a book in a few months.

Okay, so where's the failure, you're asking?

I feel like a failure because I'm in my late twenties and I am not married - hell, I'm not even seeing anyone right now. 

"Oh girl," I can hear you say, "but you've done all these great things!" 

"How can you put your self worth on whether or not you have a man in your life?" 

"Why are you rushing to get down the aisle?"

"Feminism! Betty Freidan! Anna Howard Shaw!"

Yeah, and I am a feminist, and I know in my head that I don't actually need anyone in order to be great; see paragraph above. But still, everytime I end it with someone (or vice versa), I can't help but feel like I've failed in some way. I'm ashamed of myself, like it's always my fault that everything goes wrong. 

To be perfectly honest, I think this all stems from that point in middle school where I was utterly and completely alone, regularly ridiculed by my peers for a myriad of reasons (acne, my general personality, etc). So when I'm actually in a relationship, I find myself subconsciously saying to those mean ghosts, "Hey buttheads, look at me now! Not so ugly, huh?! This guy thinks I'm great!" And when it goes south, I can hear them laughing at me.

Which leads me to Ms. Clarkson's oh-so-poignant song (although now she's married with a baby on the way). I was actually dumped recently by a guy who I was actually really excited about. It kind of came out of left field, and threw me for a loop, hence my escape to Pensacola last weekend. To add insult to injury, I see all of my beautiful friends having beautiful weddings and beautiful babies, I 

sit and feel like that left out kid in middle school when it was time to chose a lab partner - everyone has one but me.

Another disclaimer: I'm not going to rush into a relationship because I'm lonely, and I'm not desperate by any means, so don't worry about that. In fact, I am taking a self-imposed hiatus from dating exactly for this purpose.

In the sane half of my brain, I know that these things happen and it's best to just get back out there and keep looking. But still, I can't shake this terrible fear that I'm going to end up all alone, because I am too weird, because I am too strong-willed, because I am too "Me." Again, all of those scars from middle school are rearing their ugly head. Instead of wondering why I don't "wash my face," I can hear them telling me "stop being so you." To finish, with their intent: 

"Wash your face and you'll be included."

"Stop being so you and you'll find a mate."

The problem with both of those statements is that, just like having acne (which I STILL DO because genetics), is that I can't turn it off. I never have been able to, and I never will be able to. My personalities are as ingrained in me as the damn DNA code that causes my face to break out. (Yes, that is personalities plural.)

The other problem with that statement is that it implies that I have to change and be someone that I am not in order to find happiness. Which I think is a load of shit, to be perfectly honest. I mean, why does everyone else get to be themselves, but I have to change? And why do I have to put up with other people's quirks, but they don't have to put up with mine? 

Screw that. 

I realized as I was writing this blog that the first person who needs to accept me and my quirks is actually me. I have started to pay attention to the way I talk to myself, and let me tell you what - I am downright hateful. Even today, I ran a race and struggled. As I was walking along, coughing my face off, I could hear myself yelling at me, saying that I could do better than this, I could be better than this.

So I responded, "Then do better. You are in the middle of the race. If you want to run, run the damned thing." 

And the voice inside responded, very quietly and very sadly, "I can't. This is the best that I can do right now." 

For the first time, I realized that I have now become my own bully. How everytime I codify something with an excuse ("Oh, I could have run that better, but I'm sick" or "Oh, I could have written that better, but I ran out of time."), I am actually demeaning myself and my accomplishments. I have this vision in my head of the person I think I am, and I rarely live up to my own expectations. And these are not just goals - these are expectations. And when I don't live up to them, I am just plain mean to myself. 

So, starting today I have decided to be nice. If you want to know how the race went today. I did fantastic. I ran 4 miles in 47 minutes.  Up the nasty hill in Rosslyn.

I did great. 

I am great. 

And I'm going to keep telling myself that until I firmly believe that.