I spent two years of my life trying to make the decision. It’s easy to say I wasted all that precious writing time trying to convince myself why one was better than the other.
Did it gain me anything? Absolutely.
I have forged this relationship with myself. Try, if it doesn’t work, try again. Eventually if you try and fail enough things will eventually work themselves out. Could take a month, or several years. A lifetime in most cases. But there’s a beauty to this try and fail experience. If it gets done in a lifetime, I’ve done my job as a writer.
I’ve surpassed the selling one book mark by a great deal. All it takes is selling one book and you’ve gotten your name out there.
What does that have to do with traditional vs indie publishing? The truth is it has everything to do with it.
When you ask yourself the question and ponder an answer. You find out your goals as a writer. Do I want to go big or go home? Or do I want to find my own way in this world by the fight of my own ambition?
When I think about it, I look back and I don’t regret a thing. I am human, and I make mistakes. It’s part of living in our era, with the internet and all. It’s hard not to regret.
Two years ago I was pushing to get through The Devil’s Retreat and spitting out disastrous query letters. I had every intention of querying agents because I spent nights awake convincing myself, self-publishing is a bloody disaster. I wasn’t wrong either way. Traditional publishing can be as big of a disaster as Indie Publishing can. It’s all part of learning.
After finishing my novel and sitting on it for about six months I decided a year ago to go Indie. Back in August I published The Devil’s Retreat as an Indie author. I’m happy with my experience.
BUT, I’ve reverted to my original thinking and that’s okay. No path is ever clear. Especially the hazy paths publishing takes.
Have a little fight in yourself. Do what is right for you and stop listening to everyone else. You’ll be glad you did.
Once Ago someone saw,
An eager soul stretching for a lick of freedom.
I see them now.
They have no obligations.
They feel no pain.
They know the reaction.
In truth they see by more.
To them reality is a sore.
Picking and Picking,
Blood falling down trickle,
Never doing what must be done.
They saw it all by the pop of dusk,
The light goes away,
And in the dark,
The truth is far more fearsome.
Crowded with monsters,
Skimming their teeth over our flesh,
Out of darkness,
We can return our sense of humanity.
Find again our purpose,
Many ago we lost.
Find a way,
Someone hasn’t seen.
Honestly I could spend a lot of time, branding what I think discovery is.
But that would be useless.
Go away tell.