We start writing for the joy of it, finding ourselves in the depths of its expression. It matters not if the story is complete or incomplete, loved by others or hidden away in our attic. Yet there comes a time when joy is no longer the sole motivation for our beautiful compositions. The need to have our words read, to have them impact others, to have them shape readers like our favorite books shaped us, bursts from within us. We find ourselves craving an income that permits us to perform the writing craft we love so well. It is then that we realize it is time to leave the small pond where we reign supreme. We must publish.
Publishing is a fluid and dangerous ocean full
of dangers like sharks, dehydration, and drowning. The big fish in this new
realm are not the writers that, in near-idolization, we wish we could be. No.
It is their publishers, organizations that have been around for decades. With a
mafia-like capacity for planning, they remove competition and earn homage from
all the other fish in the ocean. Getting in with these big fish is no small
task. Even by litigiously following all their rules we still may miss their
attention. If we gain it, we may wish we never had: their bite can be much
worse than their ignorance. And increasingly these big fish look more and more like
prehistoric monstrosities who are unable to cope with the changing tides in a
vast sea that has never been so connected.
So what do we do, then? How do we publish? Who
do we trust? How do we mix our purist need to write and the necessities of
business? Take it from someone who lives and breathes writing and publishing,
it is no small task. In 2009 I took the plunge into the big ocean with the
release of my first book and with the foundation of a publishing company. My
research had convinced me that literature needed new publishers, people with
backbone and passion and innovation. What I have learned through nearly a
decade of research, a Bachelor’s in business, and five years real-world
publishing experience could fill volumes. As the priority questions I get from
aspiring authors are about publishing—not writing—I figure it is high time
someone who works on both sides of the publishing-writing line finally makes
things clear. Allow me to begin a series of blog posts designed to help you
navigate the dangerous waters of publishing.
For this week we will start with the
foundational debate: Am I ready to
publish?
No one really knows the answer to this but you.
Ask yourself some basic questions.
1) One
year from today will I be proud of what I released to the world? Do not
look twenty years down the road. By then you will have grown so much as an
author that you will doubtless find improvements for your beginning work.
Instead, imagine how you will feel in one year. If you are hesitant, then take
the time to rewrite, edit, and improve until you believe in your work. If you
do not, it will be evident in the very way you string the words together on the
page.
2) What
is my target market? Have I reached them effectively? All writing
needs a market. It affects how you shape your characters, what moral lesson you
teach, what vocabulary you utilize, even what tone you take up. Before you can
even think about publishing—which centers on connecting a readership to a
book—you must know your market. This is not purely the job of the publisher;
this is your task as an author.
As you review your work, do not be surprised if
you find that your age range is different than you thought it would be. Many
authors believe they write for young adults, but, in truth, their novel would
only stretch the capacities of a pre-teen. Instead of running from a pre-teen
label and making it very hard to write, edit, publish, and market their book,
these authors should accept the market they wrote for. They will find greater
success and freedom in doing so. After evaluating your market and how you have
written for them, you can then decide to publish or to rework the book for a
particular market.
3) Is
what I am writing important? This one is open for more
debate. Not everyone agrees that you should only publish what matters. You must
make this determination for yourself. As you weigh the decision,
consider this: your reader may only ever peruse one thing you write—in their
lives. Do you want your only chance to impact them to be squandered on vain
typings done merely for money? Or do you want to have a lasting imprint on
their lives? Everything we write is a chance to introduce ourselves to the
world. My advice: make that introduction count.
So, are you ready to publish? Then stay safe in
this big ocean, fellow writers. It is worth the risk.
-Jessie Mae Hodsdon
-Jessie Mae Hodsdon
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