On Self-Publishing

So I had a book.  Now what?

Well, I could've gone straight to the publishers on my hands and knees, but after some research, I discovered that literary agents are as solid an in as one can get.  The agent thing also seemed less daunting in general.  Maybe it's my lack of a go-getter nature, or my uncertainty in the various negotiating and legal issues and general selling myself that is an agent's job.  I would've been more than happy to lose some of the big money I thought I was going to get (why lie to you or to myself?) to someone who could do that for me, better than I could.  Plus, there are a thousand great resources (three, I found three) to help aspiring authors find who/what they're looking for.  For someone like me--who had a book and nothing else--this was invaluable.

I found it a relief that most agents were very nice people.  I know this because their rejections were mostly very polite.  Save a few, the rejections were peppered with "this seems like a fascinating/interesting/engaging project, but..."  This might be because they were sending form letters, or because the ones who are inclined to write back just want you to keep trying.  They know better than you or I that the industry is in trouble.  E-books, the fragmentation of options for people's leisure time, the niche-ification of reading interests.  Basically, the Internet.  It was hard enough to get in when the industry was thriving.  It's their jobs in the lurch, too, so they offer all the encouragement they can. 

And that was good, because I got a lot of rejections.  Seventy-something in total (which, from what I understand, still makes me an amateur).  And that was out of the 150-odd agents that looked like they might take my query seriously.  I twice had the enormous thrill of being asked for a partial of 50-100 pages.  One rejected me after that, while the other... well, only they know for sure (call me... please?). 

After a few months of this, I started to accept that this may not be happening for me and to continue to try was the definition of insanity. 

My dad tried self-publishing once (pre-Internet era).  A friend/acquaintance/guy I hung out with a couple of times did it.  And we all know it can be done very successfully, at the extreme end of the dream spectrum.  And all that stuff about the industry being in decline?  That stuff helps self-publishers; it's all interconnected. 

After sifting through some good advice, I decided to use Amazon's CreateSpace, mostly because I was familiar with Amazon and because I would have access to their store immediately.  And--at the risk of sounding like a shill--it could not have been easier.  They walked me through every step, letting me control the process at my speed.  Remedial self-publishing. 

And here we are. 

I don't feel comfortable instructing anyone in the How's of publishing.  I don't know what you want out of your work, you do.  I do know that the industry is rough, that I wanted my book out there, and that they didn't want me.  Maybe Nos Populus will sell twelve obligatory copies to friends and family and then die a quiet death.  But I'll have tried.  And I'll sell a few copies while coming to terms with the fact that my first novel may just be practice. 

Coming next: Something Completely Diff-- no... no Python quoting.  I have to make some rules, don't I?