Jumping the Cliff of Self-Publishing (or, Disney Analogies Gone Wrong)

The journey isn't easy, folks.
Don't jump without all your
balloons in place.

I had two teens come to me in the past week asking for advice about book marketing. Not writing, not editing, not cover art design, not the publishing process--marketing. Because they had already taken care of the other stuff by themselves. They'd written a book, edited it themselves, created their own covers, and uploaded their files to Amazon/CreatSpace. They were ready to sell!

What did I say?

What could I say?

They'd already jumped off the cliff.  I wished them well, prayed they'd packed their parachute (or had all their balloons), and tried to explain that marketing is hard, hard work.

What I wanted to tell them was to climb back up the cliff, and then walk up and down the hill a few times. About a thousand times. I was squirming inside. It took me four years to get  Finding Angel ready for publication. I had critiquers and then editors going through my manuscript with a mean red pen and an electron microscope. My publisher and I worked diligently on creating an original cover design, tweaking and perfecting, searching through thousands of fonts for the perfect one. It was a huge process.

I asked some writer friends what they thought of this phenomenon of self-publishing, especially among teens. The reaction was mixed. Many felt it would be a great learning experience. I disagree with that. It's kind of like learning to play the piano with a full audience in the room expecting a professional musician.

A few mentioned the teen obsession with Christopher Paolini. The one who wrote and self-published Eragon. Yes, he was the first teen self-publishing sensation, and a specific appeal to homeschoolers, but he self-published years ago. Before ebooks, before CreateSpace. His parents backed him financially, helped him market--and they knew the business. ALSO, his book was picked up by a big press and professionally edited BEFORE it became a best-seller.

What I'm seeing these days is more the Amanda Hocking dream than the Paolini dream. Write a book because, oh, it'd be fun, or you just want it now. Then upload it to CreateSpace and/or Kindle because it's free. No editing required except what you feel is necessary. A cover is a stock photo and any-old-font ("oh, that one's cute..."). Then go tell the world!

Enter: Instant success. Millions of copies sold overnight! Woohoo!

No...sorry. More like tears and broken dreams. Begging and pleading for people to read your book. Friends and family raving about it because they are so proud of you....but the rabid readers out there may not be so kind--IF they even find your work.

Am I being negative? Yes. But don't get me wrong. There ARE prodigies. And I love to see teens write. I love to see new writers, period. Would I love to see a teen become an overnight success? You bet! But the fact is, the Amanda Hockings of the world are so well-known because those stories are rare. Big news like that is not made from the everyday. If everyone were getting rich off self-publishing like that, then THAT would be the headline, not a handful of individual names.

Also, Hocking's story isn't *that* different from Paolini's. Same goes for the others of her ilk--the ebook self-pub sensations--as most of them didn't really hit their peak of fame until after an agent took over their careers.

The fact is, most books become a success--whether self-published or traditionally published--through hard work and persistence. Luck does play a role, too. As does true talent. But they are like genes--some factors are dominant and some recessive. Luck seems to be dominant--it can compensate for lack of talent and hard work. The thing is, luck's not a common gene. Most of us have to figure out how to get there without it.

And what the world sees is the end result. It looks easy, because writers don't practice in public. They spend hours and hours and hours--usually for years and years--getting ready for that debut novel to step out into the world. So readers see all the glitter and polish, not the sweat, tears, doubts, and work. Instead, what they get is like the "falling with style" scene in Toy Story. (Sorry, tried and failed to find one to embed.)

I hope more than anything these two teens are the exception to the rule. I hope this is a wonderful experience for them that leads to years and years of writing and success. I hope, yes. But I'm still going to cringe every time I see someone jump off that cliff just clutching a handful of balloons.

Keep Your Eye on the Goal?

I've already mentioned the guest post I did at Speculative Faith last Friday. It involves paradox. Oddly, my  entire life lately has felt paradoxical. I was even thinking of writing a post listing all the different things that feel that way. But today, one thing stood out really strongly.

In my church small group, we're doing a Rick Warren study that talks about the phases we go through when pursuing our dreams. First, we must have a dream and confirm it's Gods will for us. Then we must decide to pursue it. Then there is usually some sort of delay--we don't just go straight to the goal. Following and/or along with the delay is difficultly. Then, we often feel like we've hit a dead-end. But once we plow through that, the dream is delivered.

This morning my pastor spoke on dreams and goals. He used the movie UP as an example. In the movie, Carl and his wife have a dream to live atop Paradise Falls. But life takes them on some twists and turns, and after years of marriage, his wife passes away--and they had never followed through on that dream. Carl decides he must get their house to Paradise Falls. Of course, his plans hit a snag when little Russel ends up going along for the ride.

My pastor chose to show the clip where Carl finally gets his house on the top of the falls, and realizes it's not what he thought it would be--that really it was the adventure of getting there that was important, but he'd had his eyes so firmly on the goal he'd missed out on living after his wife died.

NO, this is not one of those "the goal is really the journey" posts. Sometimes I hate those. It often feels like justification for not reaching your goal. Like as long as you work hard and smell the roses along the way, who cares if you never actually accomplish what you set out to do. I have a very hard time with that.

I don't think that is the message of UP at all--or the message my pastor was sending.

Sometimes, our goal is really the first step in a longer journey to a farther goal. Carl had to get to those falls before he could let go of the stuff he'd been holding onto for so long--the stuff that was weighing him down and keeping him from the whole new set of adventures he was meant to have.

But another thing that I got from this morning's message was the idea that if we can let go of that baggage--that if we are at least willing to do so--we can reach our goals faster.

I wonder so often why I focus so strongly on writing. I have had many other interests and career goals that I never followed through on, and it has never bothered me. I thought from the time I was a kid until I was a good year or so into college that I wanted to be an artist. I started off in college with the intent of teaching art. But I found myself dropping that dream and switching my major to biology. I got my degree, but never went on to grad school and never pursued a job in the science field.

After college I took a couple of odd and unrelated jobs--I worked at a veterinary office and then at a Montessori school. Finally, I ended up at Sylvan Learning Center tutoring upper level math and reading. I thought I'd found my niche. I loved teaching teens, I loved teaching math. I never felt loss at not using my art skills or science education. And then I got pregnant with my son, quit to be a stay at home mom, and decided to homeschool. No regrets about leaving Sylvan at all.

I still don't regret not pursuing art as a career. Nor do I pine over not getting that PhD I promised myself. But I can't seem to let go of the idea of being a writer, of being an author, of having my books in bookstores, on people's physical shelves at home or their ereader shelves, of having people love my stories. I've never been so passionate about a goal before. And I don't know why.

Writing is the most difficult, the most frustrating, the most emotional journey I've been on. Nothing about it has been what I've expected. Publication has not come at all like I thought it would, and marketing and book sales is something that makes me want to scream at times, cry at others, and overall indulge in far too much chocolate.

And after this morning I am wondering if the reason I am feeling so frustrated by this particular endeavor is that I can't imagine letting it go. I feel like Carl, eyes set on Paradise Falls, dragging a house full of stuff behind me--everything I've attached to the idea of authorship. I wonder if maybe I need to at least be willing to let go of the idea of being an author, of saying maybe that's not the goal God has in mind for me. Am I missing out on the next big adventure because my sights are set too firmly on that one step?

Carl did get to Paradise Falls. It's not like he was made to turn back. But if he'd dumped all the junk from his house in the first place, he'd have flown there faster, seen sooner it was time for another adventure, something even bigger and better.

I simply can't help but wonder: Am I slowing down my own flight by holding too tightly to it? Or am I just flying in the wrong direction altogether?