Some Honest Musings about Self-Publishing

I've had eleven books published by two different publishers over the past 19 years. My main publisher was recently subsumed under a larger company, and my book that was to be published in January 2026 (already typeset and ready to go) was cancelled. My 21-year contract with them was also terminated, though it only had a short while left to go, and that doesn't bother me.

The trick now is to find another publisher for the three manuscripts I've already completed. Two are novels and one is a non-fiction about simple living. I've shopped them around to various places, but so far I haven't found a home for them. I've also approached several literary agents without success. It's time-consuming and disheartening and makes me question this whole process.

I've been considering self-publishing these three, just to get them out of my hair so I can focus on something new. It seems a shame to give up on them, since I've put so much work into them and they're edited and polished and ready to go. I admit to a bit of bias---somehow self-publishing feels like cheating, you know? After dealing with traditional publishers for so many years, I feel like I'm sneaking around the end post.

At the same time, the publishing world is changing, traditional publishers are moving more toward a preference for e-books (igg), and old-timey practices must adapt or die. So...do I get over my prejudices and take the plunge? Goodness knows I'd stand to earn more per each sale (royalties from traditional publishers are frankly paltry), and the idea of having total control appeals to me. I'm confident in my editing skills. But on the other hand, my old publisher consistently sold 4000-5000 copies of each of my books, and I know if the marketing is left entirely up to me, I won't sell nearly that many. My interest lies in the writing, not the selling. 

I've reached the point in my life where I just want to tell stories, and I'm not overly concerned about how many people read them. The glitz is off seeing my name in print. Money would be handy, but it's not my motivation. But are self-published books legitimate? How is their quality perceived in comparison to traditionally-published ones? I guess that's the question I'm asking. What do you think?

So much going on in the world, and yet this is what has snagged me

Two months yesterday since I lost Brio. It still catches me off guard from time to time. I expect to see him waiting when I come into the room, and the spot on the kitchen floor where his dishes used to be seems stupidly empty. I am going about my normal day and feeling completely fine and then suddenly I'm in tears again without any warning. When people see me walking down the road, do they realize half of me is missing?

I fluctuate between being sad and being irritated with myself. There are so many people hurting in the world. Even as I go through this, I know my sorrows are small compared to many people's. I have lost pets and people before. So why is this one so much more difficult? At some point I will lose patience with myself, but until then, I'm trying to grant myself some grace. It will just have to work itself out in its own time, I guess. 

For all those who have lost loved ones, including pets, those who have lost hopes or dreams, those who have lost opportunities or the future they thought they were going to have, those who may have lost faith in themselves, those who don't even know why they are down, those who feel lost themselves...I see you.

Thunderstorm and Great Minds Thinking Alike

I've been going on 2-3 hour walks every day as spring has approached, enjoying farmfield views and the crunch of gravel under my feet, the cool breeze and much-appreciated sunshine, shaking off the doldrums of winter and depression. But this morning I woke up to thunder and lightning and knew my daily walk likely wouldn't happen.

I was thinking of going upstairs, turning on some music, and dancing for exercise today, but I felt a little silly doing it by myself. Not sure why that is. But anyway, I thought about inviting a friend of mine over with her two girls. They live in a Tiny House and don't have a lot of room for doing cartwheels or dancing or even stretching on days when they have to remain indoors.

I went onto the computer to invite them, and behold, there was a message from my friend, asking if they could come over to play today. So ta da! we're on the same wavelength. A nice way to spend a soggy Tuesday.

Still need some more walking

 

"Your grief has expired.

There is a timeline for loss,

then you must move on."

They say to let go.

I’d be happy to oblige,

but it clings to me.

 

I say I’ll try to

shake it off, but it persists,

melded with my bones.

 

I confess I fear

if I release this sorrow,

you’ll truly be gone.

Walking My Feelings

This month I'm staying up at the church we're renovating, where I'm trying to establish better habits around eating and exercising. Part of the new routine is going on epic walks for 2-2 1/2 hours each morning, and shorter walks in the afternoon. It gives me a chance to explore gravel roads that I couldn't walk before with Brio, whose feet would have suffered on the stones. It's practice for me, getting used to walking without my faithful little dog, who accompanied me on almost every walk for the past 13 years. It's also a useful thing when my sorrow starts to get the better of me, because everything feels better when you're striding out in the fresh air.

My travels have taken me through beautiful farmland, just waking up from winter, with widely-spaced lovely yellow-brick homes with enticing porches that must be lovely shady spots to sit in summer. Yesterday I saw a pickup truck slowly driving down the road with three or four sheepdogs running before it, just a guy out exercising his dogs. On Easter Sunday, I saw a house with eleven cars parked in front of it, six of which were almost identical pickup trucks, plus one jeep and the rest were crossovers. The genes run strong in that family.

Yesterday, as I walked, I noticed gray clouds gathering on the sunny blue horizon, and a storm swiftly swept toward me. I figured a little rain was no big deal -- I could throw everything in the dryer when I got home -- but then it dawned on me that I was the tallest thing out there, surrounded by flat fields. Not a good scenario if there was lightning. I'd need to get low to the ground... I started eyeing the shallow ditches on each side of the road, wondering whether lying in a wet ditch was any smarter than standing up in a lightning storm. And we've had flooding lately... Was there an open barn within running distance?

But then the storm hit, and it was snow, not rain, and immediately I felt better about the situation. You rarely get lightning with snowstorms. So with hard little pellets pinging my face, I strode along, enjoying myself, and got home half an hour later with no harm done.

Refreshing, invigorating, lovely.

Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh

I just reread this book, which is a zany but perceptive commentary on life, and the section on "Thoughts and Feelings" hit me particularly hard. I don't often laugh aloud over a book, but it was hilarious because it's so true. I especially liked these comments: 

"...a majority of the feelings I feel are simply a reaction to reality not complying with my arbitrary set of rules"; 

"I am incensed that reality has the audacity to do some of the things when I CLEARLY don't want those things to happen"; 

"It feels unfair when the other things in the world refuse to be governed by my justice system"; 

"I don't like when I can't control what reality is doing."

That just about nails it.

Holy Week

I try not to get political in this blog, but at some point, you just have to call out evil for what it is.  As we approach Easter, the time when we celebrate the Atonement of Christ, Hegseth is directing there to be no quarter shown, which is a war crime. He is publicly praying for U.S. troops to be violent against those who "don't deserve" mercy...in the name of Jesus Christ. The One who taught "blessed are the merciful." The U.S. has threatened to target desalination stations in Iran, actually considering attacking a country's drinking water. This would also be a war crime. They're intentionally cutting Cuba off from vital resources, knowing full well that innocent civilians will die. I have heard it called a genocide. The only oil tanker that has been allowed through was Russian.

Those who "just follow orders" to carry out illegal acts are not immune to prosecution. They will be held just as accountable as their leaders. That is because we expect them to know the law and abide by it, to discern when an order is illegal. I am bewildered, dismayed, horrified by what is being allowed to happen. I would remind elected officials that, in the face of obvious crime, inaction can be considered just as culpable as action.