From Traditionally Published to Self-Published

From Traditionally Published to Self-Published

The business of writing and selling a book is easier and harder than ever.

Self-publishing is accessible to anyone now, but getting the job done well can be a crazy challenge in many ways. I was a traditionally published author and illustrator when I decided to self-publish. It nearly ripped my brain to shreds trying to jump over the hurdles I encountered.

How I ended up self-publishing . . .

While freelancing as an illustrator, I started writing short stories as a creative outlet. This led pretty quickly to a practice novel—which, being my first attempt, sucked, but it was a great learning experience. In the meantime, a publisher I was illustrating for asked me to write a how-to book. So my career shifted slightly to include professional writing.

I found my voice in my second novel. Skip to my third novel and now I have an agent. But publishing was in the middle of a huge industry change. The advantages of being traditionally published were quickly being outweighed by the advantages of self-publishing—unless your name was Stephen King or Patricia Cornwell. I regrouped and got serious about publishing my own books.

Creating the ebook.

I thought, This is going to be easy. Boy was I wrong. I was used to working with a whole publishing team, and I was suddenly faced with having to do everything myself. The first task, after gobs of rewrites and paranoid edits, was learning to properly format an ebook.

It was a nightmare of epic proportions and serious brain-shredding.

Just trying to get a solid overview of the whole shebang in the scattered, disconnected book-publishing help section on Amazon scrambled my brain, and sent me scouring the Internet for clearer, straight-to-the-point information that didn’t leave out crucial bits. Of course, this was also like slogging through mud in torrential rain, and I was lost in rabbit hole after rabbit hole, trying this and then that, discarding it all as inferior, getting blown off by the Amazon support team, and frustrated with no clear path in sight.

I spent months researching ways to properly format with Word, freeware, apps, code, add-ons, advice from every YouTube author dishing it out, and something always went wrong. I’d upload a ms. to Amazon KDP, and on some device the formatting was lost, messed up, or my book just looked like crap.

(It must be noted at this point that I am a perfectionist and I don’t give up dammit. Being an artist, I want things to look the way I want things to look, down to every detail. But I am also an entrepreneur/freelancer and I know the value of cutting losses and compromise. Hence, a sometimes grisly conflict of interest.)

After months of agony, I stumbled upon some luck.

I finally found a YouTuber, Joanna Penn, who interviewed Brad Andalman, one of the two creators (both Brads) of Vellum, an ebook and print book formatting app. I will do another blog post in more detail on the awesomeness of Vellum, but now just let me say, What a relief! And, Wow! And, My formatting troubles were over.

(Just one note on Vellum: It’s for Mac only. Trust me, it’s worth buying a used Mac just to take advantage of this stellar app.)

Vellum not only solved all my ebook formatting issues, it solved a number of other problems as well, such as, Amazon’s iffy book-preview feature, and, how to create the print version. The Brads really know what they’re doing.

That solved, now what?

Well, the thing no artist wants to do: market. So I entered my first self-published novel, How to Rate a Soulmate, in two literary contests as part of my newbie-self-published-author marketing plan. One yielded a really cool 5-star review based on an unpublished draft, and the other a first-place win in the romance genre with the finished print version. 😀

I’m still slogging through effective marketing strategies, much in the same way I slogged through formatting options: learning curves up the wazoo; shredded brain.

And so the journey continues.

Read the first chapter of How to Rate a Soulmate free, here.

Buy it here.

The CRINGE

The CRINGE

To kill, or not to kill?

Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.—Stephen King

In writing, you must kill all your darlings.—William Faulkner

Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.—Arthur Quiller-Couch

Countless authors—famous and not—have warned aspiring writers to cut the crap out of their manuscripts with some version of “kill your darlings.” From Oscar Wilde to William Faulkner, creative writing teachers to author workshops, we are advised to murder our most beloved—and probably self-indulgent—prose for the sake of the overall work.

The reason this advice is so often repeated is because it’s smart. We can, as artists, be too close to our own art.

But at the same time, it’s important to discern the difference between creations we are attached to—for various emotional or egocentric reasons—and personal style/individual voice.

You don’t want to mechanically nix all adjectives, eliminate semicolons, substitute grandiose words for common ones, or pander to magic-bullet, how-to-write hype. You don’t want to kill your style. Authenticity rocks, and the greatest authors will bear this out. But you do want to mercilessly slash anything getting in the way of your best work—the work you will be proud of.

Hence, THE CRINGE.

You know what The Cringe is. Everybody does. The Cringe is a little devil in the gut rearing its unwelcome head when we come across something we know is not quite good. It’s an inkling of a groan. It’s a whiff of embarrassment. We don’t want to acknowledge its presence because it makes us feel unworthy—as though the months or years of work weren’t enough. It points out that we could do better. Maybe we aren’t the geniuses we like to think we are. We deny its existence because it’s uncomfortable. The Cringe is there to challenge the rationalizing and motivate writers to reach for the stars—not cruise on the ground with the mediocre masses.

You absolutely know (somewhere deep in your bones) when you’re being too wordy, indulging in superfluous grandiloquence, using words that don’t quite hit the mark, and interjecting content off your style. But attachment to your work (and the fact that these days everyone is overwhelmed with too much to do) can cloud your clarity.

The Cringe cuts straight to the point without crushing style and your own hard-won or developing voice—the point being to do your best. Your best does not have to be perfect. There is no “perfect.” But it’s YOUR best, at the given time.

How it works.

You’re reading through your first rough draft, or you’re rereading and rewriting for the gazillionth time. And you get to a point and hesitate. You experience a slight cringe inside. It’s as though a really heavy, phantom frog just landed on you, pushing your head down into your chest cavity, and you feel your shoulders hunch and your head sink like a turtle retreating into its shell. (Okay, so I’m exaggerating and using unnecessary similes, adjectives, and metaphors which may or may not be cringe-worthy.) The point is, there is a glitch in the manuscript matrix.

The Cringe may be triggered by a word, phrase, scene, even a slowly dawning realization that surfaces and breaks your reading flow. Your apprehension of what isn’t working may be subtle. But however it comes to your attention that something isn’t quite right, don’t gloss over it—consider it.

Let’s say there’s a paragraph that upon rereading gets the job done, but seems a little clumsy. You don’t have to delete it right away. What I do is hit return a couple of times in front of the pesky paragraph, creating space for a new version, while keeping the old version for reference. This way I don’t feel panicky, or get separation anxiety for my work (if you have ever lost writing from a computer crash because you were in the groove and not saving the doc, you will understand).

Then I rewrite the passage with fresh eyes. It’s always better.

Sometimes entire scenes or characters have to go. But you don’t have to trash those either. What I do is cut and paste them into the end of the ms. where they can be resurrected if needed. But they never are. And it’s so satisfying when, after I have rewritten something so much better that incites no cringes, I delete the dubious content in question.

Books aren’t written—they’re rewritten. Including your own. It is one of the hardest things to accept, especially after the seventh rewrite hasn’t quite done it.―Michael Crichton

Does it really matter?

Let’s face it—the reading public, in general, just doesn’t seem to be that discerning. When considering the insane success of certain popular novels, you might think it doesn’t matter that much whether a word, paragraph, or character elicits an itty-bitty cringe. There is that much-touted 80/20 rule, which can be effectively applied to endeavors in today’s busy world.

But as I see it, it’s always a good idea to do your best work, even if you’re writing for the trending market just to make bank. And The Cringe is your chisel—chipping away at the marble until your statue of David emerges in the form of your latest book.

Try this:

Have you ever noticed any last-minute twinges when it comes time to enter your book in a literary contest, submit a ms. to an agent or publisher, or hand it over to an educated, discerning beta reader? You thought you were done, satisfied, good with your work. Now you aren’t so confident, or you rationalize that it’s “good enough.” That’s The Cringe speaking.

So imagine, when reading your “final” draft (“final” usually having several iterations) that you are going to hand it over to Stephen King for review. Or Tom Robbins. Or Joyce Carol Oates. Or any accomplished, famous author you like. Any cringes? Any hesitation?

Is your “good enough” manuscript good enough?

It’s all good. Or is it?

There is the concept that this is your life and you should do whatever blows your skirt up (I’m quoting myself here :-P). Free expression is a sign of evolution beyond survival, stretching limitations, opening to possibilities, and doing things you never thought you were supposed to do. Screw “supposed to” and go for it—write books, paint paintings, sing songs, invent crazy stuff.

But consider what you publish professionally, what you add into the already saturated media.

And don’t confuse cleaning up your manuscript as best you can with obsessing over producing the next Nobel Prize winner. I’m just talking about taking advantage of an awesome tool—The Cringe. You already have it, and it’s trying to tell you something.

Readers’ Favorite Review & 1st Place Winner

Readers’ Favorite Review & 1st Place Winner

How to Rate a Soulmate received a 5-star review from Readers’ Favorite. Yippee! And thank you to the reviewer, Tracy Young, who took the time to read the book and write a review.

How to Rate a Soulmate also won 1st Place in Romance from the Royal Dragonfly Book Awards.

Here is the full review:

“How to Rate a Soulmate” is the story of a modern woman. Meet Sara. She is thirty-nine, happily single and working at an ad agency, but dreams of writing espionage novels. Her friends have paid for her to see a psychic to mark the momentous occasion of her pre-fortieth birthday. Sara finds out she was a Viking wife in a former life and a slutty Viking wife at that. She is also told that in order to find true love in this life she needs to love herself. Hence, The Plan. Sara embarks on a series of beauty treatments that are costly and painful, the ultimate goal in her sights being liposuction. Accompanied by her friends and colleagues, join Sara on her quest for self-improvement and the obstacles she faces in this witty book by D.L. Fisher.

 

This is a gem of a book, funny yet full of angst. D.L. Fisher has filled “How to Rate a Soulmate” with some awesome characters. Ash – and his bookstore – is a favorite of mine, the spinster sisters lurking in the aisles are hilarious and provide comic relief. Sara, however, is my ultimate woman and I would quite happily sneer at stick-thin supermodels with her and compare cottage cheese textured thighs! This is a perfect summer read and you will feel like you have been on a roller coaster of emotions. Sara is not your usual twenty-something heroine; she is a woman with issues and hot pink dildo named George. Come on, what’s not to love?

 

—Reviewed By Tracy Young for Readers’ Favorite

Author K. Z. Kane (Blindfolded: A True Story) says of How to rate a Soulmate:

Besides being laugh out loud funny, the story entertained with twists and unexpected surprises. I read this book from cover to cover in one sitting—it is a delicious, delightful diversion you won’t want to put down!

Author Lavinia James (At First Sight) says of How to Rate a Soulmate:

“How to Rate a Soulmate” is a tasty, uproarious read that you can’t put down until you find out if Sara ever finds “the one.”

Author Mark Plets (Kelly: a tale of ould Ireland) says of How to Rate a Soulmate:

Satisfying, hilarious, yet laced with soulful depths, the story of Sara’s quest for meaningful love will keep you guessing and laughing until your sides hurt. Replete with a quirky and delightful ensemble of characters you’ll wish you could hang out with, “How to Rate a Soulmate” is everything an intelligent romantic comedy should be. I can’t get enough of Fisher’s rapid-fire, snarky sense of humor. You’ll thank your stars for finding this book.

Purchase HOW TO RATE A SOULMATE

 

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