I've read articles and blog posts about how the publishing world is getting turned on its ear.
Some cling to the age old era of printed pages, agents, and publishing companies. Some tout the new landscape of ebooks, online promotion, and self-publishing. We're either on the front lines of a digital revolution or watering down the pool to hide the works of real authors.
Since I fall under the category of digital water boy, I thought I'd throw my two cents into this wishing well.
Self-pub was not my original goal. I have no scientifically obtained statistics to back this claim but I'd guess the vast majority of self-published authors at least gave the traditional route a try. I did. I sent query after query to agents. I sent samples to small publishers and short stories to contests, all in an effort to raise my hand and be singled out among the sea of other deserving applicants.
My name was never called. I had a few requests for partials but all inquiries ended with a similar "Thank you but we're not interested."
Does that make my story bad? Does it mean I, as a writer, am not good enough? Am I the water drowning out other more deserving works of art?
Or was I being caught in the same flood, ignored by agents and publishers standing along the shore while I frantically reached for an outstretched limb?
In the end, do any of these questions matter?
As a child, my family packed into a giant conversion van each summer and set out on a journey. (It was the 70's so yes, the van had shag carpet.) We drove west. The first trip I remember was to visit family in Texas. Next year we ventured further, traveling across the southern states until reaching California then turning north, eventually crossing the Canadian border. That trip lasted almost three months.
I'm sure there was quite a bit of planning involved but since I was just the kid, I wasn't privy to those discussions. We had no Garmin. We had no internet or cell phone apps to tell us where to eat, what attractions to see, or to help us bid for hotel rooms.
We had an atlas with dog-eared pages, a few travel guide booklets, and a goal to return home by a certain week in August. It was old school. It was organic. I was a true adventure. When we left home we didn't know what we would see or where we would go, we backed out the carport and rode away.
A few years ago I set out on my own trip from North Carolina to New Mexico for my brother's wedding. My son and I commandeered my wife's mini-van (sans shag) and headed west, armed with Google Maps, the Priceline Negotiator, and enough Android Apps to strangle Wile E. Coyote. Every stop was planned. Every sightseeing opportunity researched. It was digital. It was new. It was a true adventure. While driving north through New Mexico we saw the mountains change from rocky outcrops to snow covered peaks. My ten year old son shouted, "Wow. They look like Coors cans." Moments like those make a dad proud.
Both trips evolved in completely different forms. One relied on a worn paper atlas, another on GPS. One used every electronic aide available, another employed waitresses from local diners to identify the most interesting attractions within a fifty mile radius.
In the end, both methods created memorable moments. I'll never forget seeing the Golden Gate Bridge bathed in fog or Mount Rushmore with giant carved heads of people I'd never met. My son still talks about our visit to Coors Field and our stop at Indianapolis Speedway to watch Indy 500 practice.
Both trips contained little moments making them special. The method didn't matter.
In contrast, I've made trips that could have been guided by Arthur Frommer himself and they still would have been horrible. The three hour drive along I-10 from Tallahassee to Pensacola, Florida still brings shivers of fear and loathing.
It's not the directions, it's the trip.
It's not the platform, it's the story.
Maybe if I take enough bad trips they'll water down the memories of the good ones but I don't think so. Every trip, no matter how dull or boring, adds a little to my collective story.
Maybe my self-published book slops unwanted water onto the covers of more prominent tales, but I don't think so. Every story, no matter how strange or unrefined, adds a little to our collective trip.
I've called this attempt at writing "My Journey" and "My Project". Whether guided by GPS or atlas, traditional publishing house or KDP, my journey will be unique and memorable.
I believe in
my novel. While the technique (and evidently spelling) could be improved, I won't apologize for the overall theme. I may not rise to the professional level of more celebrated authors with agents and contracts but I'm appreciative of modern technology which provides me an avenue to share.
My long term goal is to be accepted; to have an agent looking out for my best interest; to have a publisher use their platform to slide my books in front of would-be readers. Until that time I'll continue to use the tools available.
Didn't the same thing happen centuries ago with the advent of the printing press?
Those two cents have probably drifted to the bottom of the well by now. I'll end with this last thought.
It's not my goal to be a water hazard to more refined authors. I'm just trying to tell my story.
C.L. Blanton
