In case you haven’t heard, publishing as we know it is over. Welcome to the era of self-publishing, where anything goes.
Do you have a good idea? Then publish it, market it yourself, and wait for the royalty payments to come in. The tools we have at our disposal now put us within just minutes of selling books to people all over the world. Check out Amazon KDP and Smashwords for all you need to know about that.
Today, anyone with an internet connection and a credit card can buy your words. Literally within minutes (maybe hours for Amazon) of when you hang it up online. It’s a brave new world, folks!
“But,” I hear you saying, “I’m a real writer. I need some giant corporation to tell me I’m great before I can believe it. How will I develop a sense of self-worth without a big publishing company telling me that my writing is worthy of publishing?”
It’s a good point, of course, but have you considered that many self-published writers are earning enough money that they could easily pay you to clean their toilet or trim their hedges? Check out EL James, for example. Maybe not the world’s best writer, but she could probably hire you as a gardener, and then hire the president of Random House to drive her kids to soccer practice.
Where did she start out? On a blog and with a print-on-demand publisher.
“Yes, of course,” you say. “But I want a publishing company to keep 92% of the sticker price of my book. Earning 70% royalties is for suckers!”
Very true. Nothing hurts me more than earning $2 or $3 or $4 royalty per book! If I were a real, successful writer, I’d be ecstatically cashing checks for, oh, around 60 cents per copy on a book that cost $18 or $20. And that, my friends, is real writing success. Getting paid 60 or 70 percent as a self-published author only helps provide me with hundred dollar bills to dry my tears with when I’m crying myself to sleep at night.
“But… But… I need a real editor to remove any hint of my actual personality from my work. How can I publish something without having somebody beat it into a homogenous pulp of style-less garbage first?”
Well, have fun with that. Having no personality, from what I hear, is the gift that keeps on giving. When you’re collecting your Nobel Prize in Normality and Social Acceptability, I’ll be the first one to call you up and congratulate you.
“Isn’t being rejected by dozens of publishers the fun part of the writing process?”
Maybe for you it is! You’re welcome to sit at home waiting for your rejection letters to roll in, while others cash their royalty checks, secretly miserable because they haven’t “made it” as “real authors” who are “really published.”
Anyway, I for one welcome the demise of traditional publishing. I’ll see all you “real authors” on my next trip to Starbucks, where you’ll be living Every English Major’s Dream–spraying whipped cream on fat soccer moms’ frappuccinos and trying to pay off your student loans at some point before you die.
Or maybe I’ll see you in line at the bank, trying to pay your rent with one of those rejection letters.
Good luck, and let me know how that works out.
