The internet seems to be awash with people with strong feelings about indie vs traditional publishing. Some declare that traditional publishing is dead or too biased in favor of established names and commercialization. Others declare that authors who indie publish are people who didn’t want to put in the work to be accepted through traditional routes, or whose book simply wasn’t good enough.
I used to feel that traditional publishing was the only way to go. It was San Francisco Writers’ Conference 2017 that changed my mind. I met agents, publicists, indie authors, and indie publishing companies there, all of which contributed to my understanding that this will be an uphill battle no matter which route I should choose to take. There are pros and cons on all sides, and ultimately all that rests on me is to make a decision.
I received cards from four agents at the “speed-dating” event intended for authors to find an agent at the conference. I left the conference with the resolution that I would pitch to the four of them, and if they all rejected me, I would self-publish.
I sent to three agents and got rejected. I never submitted to the fourth, whom I had saved for last, because she was my first choice and I felt so sure that if anyone will take it it’s her. (The idea was that if the other three rejected me, I would learn and perfect my pitch before it got to my first choice.) I lost her card with the instructions for my submission, and was frighted of being rejected simply because my query hadn’t fulfilled her requirements stated on the card.
Then, one fine day in early November, I realized—I could publish at the end of the year and take another novel to SFWC 2018. Maybe I could have it published by Christmas and convince people to buy it as gifts. (Eventually the Christmas deadline was abandoned in favor of a more realistic one that allowed for corrections, of which there were many.)
Most likely, one of the factors that contributed to this decision was the length of time that I’ve been shopping this manuscript around. I’d been agent-hunting for a solid year, without even a manuscript request. Even at the conference, some agents in casual conversation explained to me that the premise of my book sounded unmarketable—too cross-genre to have a clear target demographic. I couldn’t deny it: even as I market it as a YA novel now, I’m frightened of the disappointment that some readers might suffer when they realize that it doesn’t do what they expect—most particularly because none of the “romances” will lead anywhere.
Of course, looking at the facts in retrospect, I see an entirely different picture. My pitch improved dramatically after the conference, but I only sent to three agents after that point. In the middle of submitting to these three agents, I cut over thirty thousand words of internal monologue and other nonsense, and added a third storyline. The first fifty pages changed dramatically in September 2017, and I never submitted to another agent after that.
Above all, with everything I learned at the conference, my story has gone from having potential to being great. I’m not trying to brag or sell myself, though you may not believe me. It astonishes me, the changes that those eight months brought to my story. If I had to estimate, I’d say that 80% of the book was rewritten in those eight months. In many ways, it isn’t the book I brought into the conference anymore. I was proud of that book, but editing it was an exhausting chore. I love editing this new one. Even when I start out not wanting to, the story sucks me in and I have trouble stopping.
That’s never happened to me before with something I’ve written. I didn’t think it was possible to enthrall myself with my own words and my own story.
So perhaps my mistake was not submitting to agents after all these edits were made, and I knew beyond a doubt that I written something worth reading. Maybe if I’d done that, I’d now be starting a journey into the world of traditional publishing. Or maybe I’d still be sending my pitch around, writing and rewriting it ad infinitum.
The fatigue of a year of rejections wasn’t so easily reasoned away by confidence in my new and improved manuscript, especially when there wasn’t a single voice around me supporting traditional publishing. The voices around me were instead urging me to self-publish and put an end to this so I could move on to the next work and asking when this book would be published. I can say without a doubt that the voices around me became the determining factor that effected my decision, for better or for worse.
And so the decision was made.
The only caveat I had about self-publishing was that if I was going to go that route, I needed my book to meet professional standards. No one picking up the book would know that it was self-published just by looking at it, or by reading it.
So I turned to Gatekeeper Press. I met Rob and Tony at the conference, and even there and then was strongly compelled by their style. From the moment I made the decision to self-publish, I knew I would do it through them. Gatekeeper Press is at its core a distributor—they make sure the book ends up on every ebook retailer it can—but they offer every step of the publishing process for a flat upfront fee, including cover art, formatting and editing.
The same day that I decided to abandon the last agent and self-publish, I emailed Rob and scheduled an appointment with Tony on their website. Five days later, I signed on with them.
Now, less than two months later, I’m a published author! I understand the world of publishing a lot better than I did even a mere two months ago. I’m glad I made this decision, and hope this book eventually finds a readership that loves it as much as I do.
These Lies That Live Between Us is now available in ebook form at Amazon (US, UK, Germany, India, Japan, Italy, France and others) Kobo, Google Books and iBooks! Paperback is now available from Barnes and Noble!