Tag: publishing

I don’t know what I’m doing.

 

 

I figured out why it is I really want to be traditionally published. Set all the fame and fortune* aside, the reason I really want to be traditionally published is the management prospect.

I’m really bad at the things traditional publication is good at — Marketing and advertising, book covers, etc. I want to be told what to do at this point in my career. I want to be told, “here are your choices for book cover. Here’s what we expect you to do to help market. Do some book tours here and here.”

If I self-publish, I have to figure out a “writing platform”, which is in effect a sales platform. Other than a Twitter account with 4500 followers and a Facebook page with 100 followers, I don’t know what that would be.

There’s so many things I don’t know about marketing a book.** I don’t know how to find the right cover art. I don’t know how to market. I can’t see myself selling over 100 books, and I know I would do better with traditional.

So I’m still undecided. I’m still hoping to get picked up traditionally, trying to improve my cover letters and my outlines and my pitches. I think my books have potential; I just need to find that way in.

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*Fortune? Not unless you’re Nora Roberts/JD Robb. Most of us won’t make a living of it.

**I know a little about designing a book cover. I know that followers are a big part of marketing. I have a blog and a website for selling for when I actually have a book out. But I don’t know how to do this well.

The Luck Factor



I need more luck. Of the good variety.

It occurs to me that my writing may not be enough to get published.  There are people who get published because they know someone, or because of some random set of events that get them to the right place at the right time with the right person.

I don’t know anyone in the industry, so I’m praying for just that sort of luck.

I know every good thing is a two-edged sword — the lottery bestows money, and with it, tension. A publishing contract would invite paperwork and other life changes into my life. But the status quo isn’t necessarily the best place to live either.

So I am wishing and praying for the kind of luck, the serendipity that changes my life in a positive way. 

I guess I can brag

I don’t have any novels published yet (my big dream). But here’s a list of my writing accomplishments to date (over a time period of about 9 months):



  • Honorable Mention in 48th New Millennium Writing Awards, Runner up in Cook Publishing 2019 Short Story Contest 
  • Published in A3 Journal, by Riza Press (online) and Submittable Stories (online). 
  • Second place in 12 Stories 2019 Contest.       

I’m a little bummed that I don’t land first place in contests, but even in the completely unsuccessful contests, I’ve gotten emails that have said I’m oh so close. 

I think I’ll be optimistic about this.                        

If I get published

If I ever get a book published traditionally (my optimistic friends say “when”, not “if”), it will change my life in many ways. 

The money won’t be a big change — according to Derek Murphy, the average amount an author earns is the advance, which is $10k, or $8k after the agent gets their cut.  

I will have to hire an entertainment lawyer to look over the contract and see if there are any potential hitches. 

I will have to sign a contract, after which my rights to my book will be curtailed for a period of time.

I will have to consider promoting my book, which will include travel. I would likely do this in the summer, which means I will have to schedule around internship visits.

I will have to step up my social media game. I haven’t done that yet because I have nothing really to promote except this blog. 

I’ve probably forgotten something.

Sometimes it seems more work than it’s worth, but it’s worth it to me. So I keep trying, keep improving, keep pushing myself.

Feeling the need for inspiration.

I’m wrestling with the whole writing thing again, which I understand is part of writing.

In my mind, the struggle manifests itself as a lack of inspiration, a general blah. I’ve written five novels (and need to edit two but have lost my dev editor), which is a big accomplishment. 

I think what bothers me most about not getting published — when I accomplish something (a novel), I want a stretch goal, and getting it published is a stretch goal. Otherwise, once one has written one (or five) novels, what else is there?  I’d like to be published so that I feel that the goal isn’t totally unattainable.

Lately I’ve written some short fiction, which gives me something to enter on Submittable for a feeling of accomplishment, and hopefully publication. I have nine items in review, another nine waiting (I think I’ve said this before). I still wish I felt motivated toward editing/writing the longer stuff.

 Oh, yes, my flash fiction, Becky Home-ecky, now can be found in the A3 Review Volume 11, found in finer bookstores somewhere in the UK. 

I just hope I get out of this slump soon.

Letdown

Yesterday I woke up with that feeling that something good, really good, was going to happen.

Instead, I got two rejections.

It’s laid me a bit low. It’s not that I haven’t been getting rejections all along; I can be a bit superstitious at times, and I felt as if the universe bitch-slapped me. 

I’m stewing in the very common writer’s self-castigation: My writing isn’t interesting enough, my writing isn’t good enough, I’m not good enough.

Still, I turned my pitch for Prodigies to Pitch Wars, which is a competition to find established authors who will work with you to improve your pitch materials so that they entice agents. 

I keep trying, because I will never get published if I don’t try. 

Short Stories

I’m falling in love with short stories.

I’ve been playing with stories relating to the characters in Prodigies, because that’s what’s been close to my mind right now. I posted one of them, Hands, in this blog previously. 

I don’t know how “marketable” they are, because they’re my writing, and I’m having trouble getting the novels accepted. They tend to tie in with my novels, which will be a great thing once I’m published (anthologies are nice bonuses to give people as an incentive to buy your work at conferences), and before then they’re stories I can try to publish.

Publishing short stories does not pay, for the most part. There’s a lot of competition, of course, and I’ve gotten more rejections than acceptances so far. I don’t know if anyone reads them besides the other people who are published in the journal or website. But getting published does give a little buzz of happiness. 

Meanwhile, as a writer, I find that writing short stories gives me small doses of accomplishment — not as much as when I finish a novel, but enough to make me feel like writing again.

Odd Place

I’m in an odd place about my writing.

Weeks ago, I gave up the need to be published. Since then, I’ve been writing stories, submitting those and poetry to various outlets, where they may or may not get published, may or may not get any readership if they’re published.

I’ve gotten a few more rejections from agents for Apocalypse. It doesn’t bother me much.

It seems to me that I poured myself into my writing because I wanted recognition. I wanted readers. I wanted to get a shiny star for publishing.

I had an empty checkmark on my bucket list.

Now that I have gotten runner up on a fiction contest and about to see some flash fiction in publication, I’ve checked that box.

My one worry is that I don’t feel as possessed about writing. No dreams of being published dangled before my head like the proverbial carrot. I could never quite reach it. I feel like maybe I’m slowly giving up, and I don’t know if I want to do that.

I guess seeing how this evolves will be another adventure.

Live as if you’re already published

In a trance last night, my mind told me to live as if I’ve already been published.

That’s an interesting concept. My rational self wonders what it really means, though.

There are ways in which I can’t live as if I’ve already been published. For example, I can’t show off my writing to my friends. I can’t plan a book publishing party or a book tour. I can’t try to sell the nonexistent book at writers’ or readers’ conferences. 

So what does living as if I’ve already been published mean? I can take the pressure off myself; I don’t have to prove anything. I don’t have to believe myself inferior to those authors who have published books. Technically, I am an author, having published a few professional articles in my field, one opinion piece in the local newspaper, several personal essays for progressive religion publications, one short story and one flash fiction. So I can call myself an author even if I haven’t published a book.

I don’t have to prove anything. I’m already published. I’ll keep trying to publish a book, but I don’t have to anymore. I’ve accomplished my original goal.