Jeanette Windle
www.jeanettewindle.com
Copyright: September, 2001

TO SELF-PUBLISH OR NOT

A frequently used analogy is that of the small child who comes across a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. Taking pity on its frantic struggles, the child cuts it looseonly to discover that the beautiful creature cannot fly. The process of forcing its way out of the material that imprisoned it was a necessary step in strengthening the butterfly's wings for flight. The act of kindness has left the butterfly a permanent cripple. The analogy is an obvious one. We humans need pain and struggle and persistence to grow strongwhether in the physical arena, social maturity, civic responsibility, or . . . writing.

The value of self-publishing is not in dispute. Many have opted for it and are pleased with the result. However, in by-passing the normal editorial process, we must recognize an inherent danger of short-circuiting as well our own creative growth as a writer. For all its frustration, there is merit in the old-fashioned, hand-sweating, hair-tearing, heart-jerking process of searching for just one publisher who actually finds our work worthy of print. The rejection slips . . . those stinging editorial judgments . . . the writing and rewriting of a piece and sometimes throwing it out altogetherall are part of the refining process, painful but necessary, by which a writer is forced to develop the standards of excellence a professional editor expects and demands.

The truth is, we are too easily self-deluded as to the value of our own words. We fall in love with them, hugging them close as a child birthed at great personal cost and pain. And like any proud parent, we are loathe to admit that our offspring has flaws, begrudging the loss of a single phrase to the editorial red ink. Because we cannot be trusted to subject our own creation to the surgical knife of literary criticism, we need a hard-headed and disinterested outsider to force us to it.

No long ago, a woman handed me her first novel. This was nothing new. Would-be authors and dog-eared manuscripts pass in and out of my life on a regular basis. But this one was publishedself-published. It was a nice-looking book with a pretty cover, though pricey for my pocketbook. $12.50 seems a little steep for a Harlequin-style romancea problem self-publishing has in trying to compete with trade market prices. She'd had trouble marketing and was on the look-out for a regular publisher. The book was in a field where I had contacts so I mentioned a couple of publishing houses. No luckthey had already turned her down.

I read the book and could see why. It wasn't that the book was badly written. For a first attempt, it was credible. It just wasn't . . . good. If my new acquaintance had taken those rejection slips and editorial comments back to the drawing board, she might in two or three rewrites have developed an above-average novelor given it up as a lost cause and started over with something fresh. Instead, she has a fair chunk of her life's savings tied up in a book she cannot market and is too busy trying to salvage her investment to continue writing. My own first novel never reached the printed pagethank goodness! It is best left interred on that old 5 1/2 inch floppy. I went on to finish the first three books of my children's series before I found a publisher for them. It wasn't that the books weren't publishable. I had enough feed-back from interested editors to assure me of that. But they didn't inspire an editorial bidding contest either. For a serendipity of reasons, one contract after another fell through.

Meanwhile, I took every bit of feedback from editors and plowed it back into those manuscripts. By the time I'd nailed a contract, I had rewritten each one three times. It was a heart-wrenching, hair-pulling, tearful process that made birthing my human offspring seem painless in comparison. But when the first three books of the Parker Twin Series rolled off the printing press, they weren't just acceptable. They were good. Today I am deeply thankful that my name isn't floating around out there on those original drafts. The standard of professionalism I was pushed to achieve has benefited me ever since in my writing career and made possible the jump from children's fiction to my first adult political/suspense novel and a contract for two more.

So should we toss self-publishing categorically out the window? Not at all! We all recognize the reality of books worthy of print but that because of marketing constraints fail to find a publisher. Still, if we are opt for self-publishing, then some provision must be made for the sandpapering and polishing process that the normal editorial procedure offers the writer. At minimum, two requisites should be considered before jumping on the costly bandwagon of self-publishing:

1) An outside reviewby someone with nothing to gain or lose by an objective judgment. Friends and even fellow writers are not adequate judges of a manuscript's marketability. Nor are businesses looking for your investment in self-publishing. 2) A professional editing. Even Tom Clancy and John Grisham suffer the indignation of slashed sentences, tightened dialogue, and chopped paragraphs. The best of writers is not necessarily a competent editor. Too often, the mark of a self-published book is a lack of polish in the final editorial process.

In the end, the choice to self-publish or not to self-publish is a very personal one. But it should be made with caution. Getting our work into print is not an end in itself, but a step on the journey to excellence as a writer. Whatever the decision, keep writing . . . and rewriting. However painful the unfurling of those wings, don't let yourself settle for less than you were meant to be.

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