Why I am self-published

(content note for VERY strong language)

Recently the whole self-published versus traditionally published wrestling match has reignited, following a post by Ros Barber in the Guardian online. I’m not going to address the article because that would be juvenile, petty and a waste of time. More than that, it would only be my opinion and that is of little real worth. I am no one of note, or of influence. I’m an author who self-published, which makes me mud on the shoes of many.

In the 90’s I spent a couple of years going through the rigmarole of jumping through the hoops set by publishers and agents. Combined with an absurdly low income at the time that meant affording printer paper and postage was a big deal, the whole time was intensely stressful. I got asked for full manuscripts many times, and some went through several…

I will not go with the ferryman,

Into the endless night,

Nor touch the dust grey shores,

Where shades linger grieving.

I will not listen to the clinking of silver,

And the whispering of the dead,

Rattling the brown reeds, rustling the fallen leaves.

I will turn my back on the water-dripping oars,

On the oil black river,

The silence and the dull dark sky.

Before my eyes, the horizon glows,

With the promise of the rising sun,

And in the night, the sky glitters,

With the light of a million stars.

I turn my back on death, my face to the light,

And live.

…my dear pal, Authoress, Susan Toy knows what she’s talking about when it comes to books… she’s seen the business from several angles, including selling ‘em, promoting ‘em, writing ‘em, and blogging about ‘em… her Guest Post today blows away a few urban myths about the expected longevity both of print and eBooks…

Not so fast, Print-Lovers!

By Susan M. Toy

Thanks to Seumas Gallacher for agreeing to host me, once again, by posting this rant guest post on a topic that has me particularly steamed … or fried, actually.

Last evening, when I began making dinner, I asked Dennis if he thought I should slice the potatoes into rounds instead of the usual sticks to make fries, just for a change. (Belgian Fries, actually, since I’m half-Belgian.)

He made a face – really! – and said, “But then they won’t be fries!”

“But they’ll still be potatoes I’m frying…