I published by book–by hand. A handmade book takes hours to put together, and it isn’t cheap. I love making them though. I made three, but I can’t make any more. I can’t afford it because who is going to pay that kind of money for a book by an unknown writer when they don’t want to (and can’t afford to) buy a hardcover book in a bookstore?
I’ve read a number of blogs on the self-e-publishing phenomenon. Adrienne Kress touched on a few points that resonated with me. And if you’ve read my last few post, you’ve read about Amanda Hocking and her e-success.
In my book-shaped heart, I know I do not want to self-publish in any format. I don’t have it in me. I’m not a buck-the-system woman. I’m not a pitch-it-myself soul. I want a publisher.
There. Said it.
Call me a sucker. Call me a coward. Call me a pleaser who needs approval of power.
Writing the stories I want to write take enough of my guts and hutzpah.
Kress touches a nerve when she suggests that some of the self-pub crowd want to see traditionally published authors fail. Is she right?
Have I showed up too late?
Oh well. The thing is to keep writing.