Neglect Becomes Our Ally

I am an independent novelist. That is, I start my lecture by explaining to the non-writer audience that when I put out a book, I am the author, the editor, and the publisher. Then, I say the thing that no one says.

To a novelist who has held out for a traditional publisher, independent novelists are trash.

My words sound harsh. I mean them to sound harsh. Then I smile softly, and I tell them that I'm going to explain to them why I decided to become an independent novelist when it makes me trash.

I begin by explaining that most people misunderstand the role of a publishing company. They think that having obtained a contract means something about the book. To obtain the contract means the book has reached a standard of excellence that proves something about the author. Maybe it's that they're intelligent, or creative, or that all the hard work and money invested in them wasn't wasted.

That isn't true.

It's not absolutely false, but it also isn't true.

Publishing companies are investment firms that specialize in books. If they don't have confidence that they'll be able to sell your book, they won't offer you a contract. It doesn't mean anything else. Just that the company has seen what is selling and they're going to buy the rights to books that are likely to pay off. When you go into a bookstore, you aren't seeing what the greatest minds of our time have to say. No. You're looking at what publishing companies thought would make money.

Then I take the audience back in time and explain that I started writing novels when I was 13, and I knew that writing novels was not a career for most people. From what I had seen, writing wasn't a great career choice in the first place. It was more like a side hustle that needed to be funded by another career, or a parent, or a spouse. If it's your grandma, fine. The point is that no one was making a steady income from writing novels.

Even so, there is something spectacular about a novel cover that drives a person crazy. I think it's the name of the author. Most movies credit more than one actor on the movie poster. Most concerts have more than one band playing. Most menus have dozens of dish. It's different for books. If more than one person worked on a book besides the author, they're invisible on the cover. All the credit (for better or for worse) is given to one person. Their name is emblazoned beside the title of the book that is so dazzling it sends shivers up your spine. Don't get me started on the graphic. Book covers get more beautiful every year.

The goal of the average novelist is to be famous, respected, honored, loved, and fawned over. Oh... and to make money. Let's not forget money and all the doors it unlocks.

So, if no one is fawning over you, are you even a writer at all? You can't be respected as a novelist if no one was willing to invest in your genius. Then you're just a hobbyist hack who does whatever. Try not to breathe the same air as me.

That's the way traditional authors look at me when we meet. You can see the typeface in the whites of their eyes.

I'm chuckling at this point. That's because I have honestly been treated this way by other authors who think this way, and who are definitely not above fawning over themselves if there is no one conveniently around to do it for them. I smile and explain that I have had publishing contracts. I don't like them.

Why not?

Because they're useless to me. I go on to explain that when I was leaving high school, I had written five novels to completion, and I had a sixth on the way that I finished in the first two months of college (I also get looked down upon when I say the word 'college' because hardcore academics know that university is not that hard (they got through it). I say that I graduated and was immediately hired by a university to work in public relations. I was in charge of minor publications. Later, I moved on to work at an even larger university where I was in charge of various public documents and creating audio content that was made available to the public.

When I got my first book in my late twenties, I was confused. I used to think all those dumb things about publishing companies, too. I thought that getting a publishing contract meant something. Except it didn't mean what I imagined. I had a lot to learn.

The thing is, there are a lot of reasons not to bother working with a publishing company these days.

For one thing, one of the best reasons to get a publishing contract 25 years ago was to get the company to pay for the first print run. Nowadays, I wouldn't even recommend that anyone bother putting their books in a brick-and-mortar bookstore. The bookstore takes 40% of the price of the book. They have to. They can't afford to stay in business if they take any less. After you've paid for the book to be printed and sent to the bookstore, it's a waiting game. It's a gamble. If the book doesn't sell enough to have paid for the print run, you're in trouble whether you got your book published with a publishing company or not. The problem is that the bookstore will not keep the book on the shelves until it sells. If it's still on the shelf six months after release, it will be discounted so low that no one will be making much money. Alternatively, it's returned to the publisher or the author. In a bookstore, if no one has heard of you, it's harder to sell. If you don't sell, that publisher might lose your number. If you thought you felt ecstatic when you got your publishing deal, you might find yourself at the very opposite of that emotional teeter-totter when that deal is over and not renewed. If the publishing contract is cancelled, does it have the opposite effect? If getting the contract meant something, then doesn't losing it also mean something?

The next thing that happens to beginner authors is that they think the publishing company's editor will help them make their book better. That is not what happens at all. If the editor likes the book, they may make recommendations that are then returned to the author for correction. The more time the editor spends making corrections, the less they like the author. The editor wants a book that is ready to go, so they have to work on it for the shortest time possible. Time is money. It's their money.

Which leads us into the next problem. A beginning author is a powerless nobody. They have nothing to negotiate with, which means that the publishing contract will always favor the publishing company and not the author. They are the ones who drafted the contract. I have seen crazy things written into publishing contracts, stuff nobody should ask for: movie and TV rights in perpetuity, no possibility of cancelling (you sign that paper, they own your book forever), and asking for reparations should your book suck so bad that they lose money over it.

The problem is how much you value your reputation as an author.

I suppose you're wondering how neglect factors into this.

One time, I was watching an interview with Margaret Atwood. During it, they asked her if she enjoyed rubbing her success in the noses of her naysayers? I knew what she was going to say before she said it. She looked at the interviewers and said that she was in her 80s and everyone who had ever doubted her was dead. I knew she was going to say that before she said it because if I had wanted to impress the people who mattered most to me, I was going to need to do it by the time I was 22. Every year after, there were fewer people to celebrate with me. I said I got a book published when I was in my late twenties, but by then, it was too late. Everyone who mattered to me was dead, too sick to care, or had made it very clear that no matter what I did, I would never be able to impress them.

Thus, neglect becomes our ally.

Who was I going to impress? If I scored a publishing contract with a respectable company (and I did), no one cared. If I was in a bookstore doing publicity work, no one cared. Readings? Nope. Signings? Nope. I used to put notices up on my social media saying where and when I would be doing author things, with such a small response that it was embarrassing... or was it?

Actually, it wasn't. Instead, it was freeing.

The thing was, I went through various stages of being an independent novelist.

First, I realized publishing contracts weren't necessary. I once made my living as an office drone, and there is absolutely nothing that a publishing company can do that I can't do better. I can do it better because I care more than they do. IT'S MY BOOK!

Secondly, I realized that in order to make a book successful, certain sacrifices must be made beyond the writing and editing of the book. They're in publicity work. I am not going to do any of that. I'm not going to sign a contract that promises I'll do public appearances and prepare various banal posts on social media that soak up my writing time, or the time the rest of my life needs. I can approach the problem in my own way, meaning I can create my own business plan I can realistically execute, instead of spending so much time yapping about how great I am in a pathetic effort to convince everyone around me that I'm worthy of their fawning. Honestly, book publicity turns me into a me-monster, and I get sick of myself. I get so sick of myself that it doesn't surprise me when authors give up writing because what publishing companies demand from them, to insure that their book makes money, ruins their lives.

Thirdly, I dreamed of a publishing contract that didn't make me want to gouge out eyes. For the past several years, I have been getting publishing contracts sent on the regular, and they are so bad, it's brain-breaking. I'm staring at them, wondering what they think they can do for me that I can't do for myself. I can do it. I can design the cover. I am an okay graphic designer. I can format the book. It's super easy. I can make the book into an ebook, an audiobook, and a paperback. It's not hard. I can distribute the book myself. I have done much harder things. And I can get thousands of readers so that thousands of my books are downloaded every month without paying for ad space (try asking me how I did that).

Lastly, I gave up on the idea of ever bothering to handle physical books. They're nothing but a nuisance.

Like I said, I get looked down on by traditionally published authors. They're pretty snotty until they see how many books I've written, edited, and published. Right now, I have 17 novels available and many various other projects. It's the beautiful covers that shut them up the hardest because that is what every author wants the most.

The benefit of not having anyone to impress is that you can take the low road. It's the road where you can do things at your own pace--the healthy pace. No deadlines and no writing caps. I set the prices. I decide where books are going and why. I pick the covers. My dream to become a novelist was never about making people love me. Even if it was, it's impossible now, and I see the benefit. I get to create more storires. I can create exactly what I want because there is no one to impress. I love to tell a good story, and with less at stake at every step, I am a very relaxed person. That leads to better books.

To finish up. I'm never jealous when I hear that a new eager beaver writer has scored a contract. Whenever it happens, I always smile, congratulate them, and tell them they'll need that on their resume if they were ever to apply for a job teaching a creative writing class. Their eyes go wide, and they say that they've always wanted to do that. Of course they have. They're in it for the love of an audience.

Then I look at the people who have come to hear me speak and I know I've alienated them by saying that I do not write for them, that I do not have any interest in their opinions of who I am or what I do. I inform them that I want to have a place in the community that has nothing to do with my writing and that it is perfectly okay if they don't read my novels. They can still be friends with me. I can still bring cupcakes to the bake sale, I still want to be involved in the car pool, and I can still scribble on the sidewalk with the little girls.

I finish my speech by informing everyone that I am not available to edit anyone's book. I thank them for coming, and take a seat so the next author invited to speak can explain why fawning over them is a good idea.