My writing life parallels all other aspects of my life. I have skills, experiential knowledge and a level of confidence. As a result, I believe I have something to say that people want to hear with a unique voice that only I possess.
Hmmm...
Self-publishing is, therefore, a god send. It allows me to be me and say what I want to say. It's satisfying, has the potential to be lucrative and, above all, is fun. I have three books on Amazon, two in the creative pipeline and three others blocked out awaiting the creative hand. There's even a workshop on self-publishing that I provide,
Come Write Aboard(c)
Why do I still send out queries to agents and enter writing contests? Even more, why do I feel devastated, crushed and depressed when I get rejected? Again?
Backing up a little, with every "Thank you for your submission. At this time we've decided to pass on publishing your manuscript," there's also a "Your writing is crisp, well-crafted with characters that are entertaining and believable. But..."
It's the "But..." and the "...decided to pass..." that I focus on and obsess about.
Why?
Even with the personal satisfaction I experience upon viewing my creations, and the great feedback I receive from my readers ( and no, not everyone who gives me a great review is related or a friend), there's a part of me that still craves the validation that comes from a person in the industry who wants to represent me. That agent and/or editor who believes in my abilities enough to want to invest time and money in me.
Me.
And so I keep submitting and hoping and dreaming and crying and repeating.
However.
Within this loop I've noticed an interesting facet.
At times I open my wallet, clear my calendar and attend conferences to meet with representatives face to face. Over the years, the price has gone up. Not that long ago, I paid $40 for a half hour with an agent. Most recently, I paid $35 for 10 minutes. Some meetings go well, some not so well. The ones that go well are exciting and motivating and inspire me to polish up my manuscript and whip it off. Memories of the 'connection' and the feelings of hope buoy me to continue working on current projects while daring to believe that this may be the one.
Until I receive the cookie cutter, terse reply that they've decided to pass.
And I'm devastated and crushed and crying. And ready to try again.
After letting the wound heal a little, I re-read the rejection. Just after the criticism, I notice an offer. Sometimes a few offers.
"Check out our latest book on improving your characters..."
"For $xxx/ hour, our experts can show you how to bring your writing to a world class level..."
"Attend our writing boot camp for 10% off. We guarantee you'll increase your potential to get noticed by an agent..."
Are the chummy conversations merely a well-honed sales pitch to get me to buy their products? Similarly, are the tough love criticisms a way to break me down, make me more susceptible to the expertise they're offering?
Don't misunderstand. I'm not saying their products are necessarily junk. I've attended workshops, bought books and otherwise taken advantage of services that I've felt could improve my skills. But is it being taken too far? Has the industry all but given up on marketing books and is now focused on selling the tools and services required to make the books? Here's an example:
Critique from a writing contest:
The writing and voice are extremely well crafted. The
set up is great and introduces your reader to the storyline effortlessly. The
setting is captured vividly and the character comes alive off the page. The
real essence of your story is done remarkably.
Recommendation from the same writing contest:
Track 2. We recommend you get a copyedit
Track 2 is for those SWP authors whose manuscript
requires something heavier than a proofread. Issues that might qualify a
manuscript for a copyedit include overuse of certain turns of phrase, redundant
word choices, or small inconsistencies in character, plot, or structure. We
will offer a brief assessment of your work in order to point you to the places
in your manuscript that have deemed it in need of a copyedit. We do not require
that you get your copyedit done by Xxx Xxxxxx Xxxxx, though we recommend
it. We offer copyediting at a flat hourly rate of $60/hour. We employ a
strong stable of copyeditors who are proficient in Chicago Manual of Style
(the style guide of choice for book publishing).
How does "extremely well crafted" and "done remarkably" translate into "recommend... a copyedit... at $60/hour"
Since I'm neither desperate nor stupid, I'll spend the $60/hour on hiring an artist for my cover art.
Thanks for the offer, though.
