I recently stumbled across another post outlining at length arguments against self-publishing–
http://gilesbenaway.wordpress.com/2013/10/17/self-publishing-wannabe-writers-beware/
I think the author makes a number of assertions about self-publishing, and, for that matter, about traditional publishing, that I find hard to square with my own experience and what I have heard from other authors. I am not, however, going to launch into a lengthy counter-diatribe. Anyone who is interested can read the post for themselves and draw their own conclusions.
It did get me to thinking about why I self-publish, though. It’s not for the money (my sales so far have been two hair-breadths above zero). It’s not because I am a literary genius. There was a time when I thought I was, but that conceit was beaten out me long ago. I am not really expecting to be famous or to appear on Letterman or have adoring groupies mail me their undies to be autographed. Particularly not the last. God, I can just see my wife opening that package….
The chief end of my choosing to go with self-publishing was, and is, my desire for an audience. Unable to get past the gatekeepers of traditional publishing, I finally did an end-run and now people are reading my stories. At this point my audience is small, but it’s more than I had five years ago, and I have every hope of growing it.
As for the quality of my writing, it is not perfect, and it is not Shakespeare (see “not a literary genius” above). But it’s better than a lot of stuff, self-published or traditionally published, so I don’t feel too guilty about putting it out for sale. And I am still learning.
I’m not sure, but it looks very much as if the only direction from here is up.
Later.
Writing and other forms of suffering 