After much deliberation I have decided to publish The Daily Dylanson Obituaries myself. I'm looking into Kindle and other sorts of interwebby things. First, I have to find out how to spell "Kindle." Ok, I just googled it, and I am spelling it correctly. Wasn't sure if the "e" went before or after the "d." There, first step taken. I'm practically published already.
This decision was mostly fueled by the fact that I'm pissed off at the writer of "50 Shades of Gray." She was a fan fiction writer who was offered a book deal. She didn't...even...try. How long have I been trying to get this fucking book published? For four years? Yes, four years. I had an agent for three years who didn't sell it because, in her words, "it's hard to sell a book that means something." She did add, "But if anyone can do it, you can." That's nice and all, but honestly, it doesn't mean much now. Because, after four years of rejections and rewrites, it's hard to sell encouragement that means something.
So fuck it! I've had enough of publishers and agents. There's an agent who's reading the whole book right now because she liked the first fifty pages. That's great. She'll finish reading the book in six months and ten years from now after editing it twelve more times, it will be on the shelves? No. By the time this fucking thing comes out, there won't even be shelves anymore.
So stay tuned. This is something that I plan to do in the next couple of weeks. If anyone has any advice on this topic, I'm open to suggestions, words of experience, and anything. Well, within reason. :) One of my dear friends advised me to make sure it's well edited because a lot of self-published stuff is poorly edited. This is good advice, and I plan to follow it.
I'm so mad at the publishing industry right now that I feel like if, let's say 15 years from now, a publisher came to me and said, "I see you've written 27 novels and have a fan base. It's good stuff. Would you be interested in publishing it with us? We can offer you actual money." I would say, "Fuck off."
She might laugh, thinking I'm kidding, and say, "Seriously, would you be intersted?"
"I said fuck off. Fuck you, fuck everyone you've ever met, please disinfect the area that you're standing in with Lysol before you go, and when you get home, look at yourself in the mirror and then say to yourself, 'I am a disgrace to literature, and Mark Twain, Shakespeare, and Dorothy Parker would all take turns bitch slapping me if they could.'"
I've written this thing, I just want people to be able to read it. So there.