Why I self-publish

I think I can finally say that the book that's been dominating my life is finished—well, as finished as it will be until it's actually launched in late November. Review copies were ordered a few days ago and a press release is being written. My marketing plan, such as it is, is now at the top of my to-do list. I have taken off my author fedora and put on my publicist beanie.

Several people over the last few weeks have asked me why I decided to self-publish Camping with the Communists. For some people, self-publishing is suspect, and I admit there's a lot out there that should never see print. But every day more and more good, and even great books are being self published. And I'm happy to be part of that tribe. Here's why.

1. I'm impatient. For an unknown author to find a publisher or agent is a time consuming exercise. You first must meet the specific needs of the publisher/agent. Then you send your work out. And you wait. It's not uncommon for a publisher to take two to three months to review your submission, because most get thousands a year. And when they finally get back to you it might be a rejection or it might be, "Great writing! Great concept! But unfortunately not for us. Good luck!" You know that some of America's great writers have gotten plenty of rejections, so that's not enough to stop you. You send it out again. And wait. If you manage to land an agent (I had two once) you still have to wait. And I'm not happy waiting. It drives me crazy. It can take years to find a publisher. No thanks.

2. I'm a control freak. The first book we self-published was in 1995, before digital were common and print-on-demand was somebody's dream. My idea started small, it was going to be a brochure answering all the questions people always asked us about traveling. As I wrote, it grew into a 133-page workbook, How to Plan Your Trip to Europe. And because I was handy with Pagemaker and knew a designer who would help me, self-publishing seemed the obvious solution. We thought it would be fun and I liked the idea of controlling not only the words, but how they looked on the page. And I knew I could sell more books than any publisher because . . .

3. Publishers don't really publicize. Yes, they arrange book tours for celebrity authors, and even a mid-list writer might get some help; but for the average Joe or Jane they do very little. It's up to the authors to create their own platform, their own publicity—in fact when you submit a manuscript to a publisher or agent you're encouraged to tell them exactly how you plan to market your book. And since that's the case, I might as well do everything myself, because (1) and (2).

The publishing world has changed and is changing; very very rapidly. Those famous old publishing houses that nursed unknown talents into greatness no longer exist. They've been bought out or eaten up by others, and now they're part of a conglomerate owned by an oil company, or some other unrelated-to-books business that cares nothing about books, but a lot about profit.

I like money as well as the next person, and fat advances are the stuff of dreams. But for me, the fun is creating something, from the moment it exits my head to the moment a reader picks it up and laughs, or sighs, or hates it or loves it. Writers just want to be read, and if digital presses and print-on-demand can get us there, then for some of us, that's good enough. And because (1) and (2).

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We're off for a few days in the southern Washington mountains. Maybe when I return I can give you a report on Sasquatch. While you wait, check out my new website at karengilden.com.

Back in the USSR

I've had my head down over the last month, finishing up a new book that will be out in October. While my brain's been living 1977 all kinds of surprises have happened: Snowden's NSA leaks; the GOP's continued effort to outlaw abortion and take women back to the 1950s; another uprising in Egypt; hot weather, fires, and sadly, 19 dead firefighters; immigration reform—yes? no?—I can't make sense of it; and of course no gun control legislation but plenty of shootings.

I think I'll retreat back to the '70s, when life was simpler and we knew who the bad guys were—not us. I promise the blog will be back in a few weeks, so please check in again.

In the meantime, make a note somewhere to look for Camping with the Communists: The Adventures of an American Family in the Soviet Union, coming this fall. A reader/editor made my day when she called it "a treat to read. Smart, compelling, personal, deep, funny." You can hardly wait, right?

Electronic dithering

My writing time has been consumed lately by trying to get the digital version of Tea & Bee's Milk up on a site called Smashwords.com. Even though I've been using computers since the 80s and feel more than competent, the exacting process had me tearing my hair. Fortunately one of their techs took pity on me and I can now say with confidence that the book is available here in nine formats, with more to follow in a few weeks, including iPad, Nook, Kobo, Sony Reader, Adobe, etc. So if you haven't read it and have an e-reader, now's your chance. And if you like it, go to Smashwords.com and write us a smashing review.

The publishing world has changed dramatically since I started writing in the late 70s. And it continues to change at a blazing pace. Digital, on-demand printing broke down the doors, and e-books are assailing  the walls. While editors and agents search for celebrity names and multimillion dollar titles, more and more authors are turning to self-publishing and e-books as a way to get their words out cheaply and quickly. Economist Robert Reich's latest, for example, Beyond Outrage, is currently only available in e-book format—and it contains videos. What next?

I am too much of a traditionalist to give up on paper books, but I admit there is an advantage to being able to download and read a book anytime, anywhere. Those ten weeks in Costa Rica wouldn't have been nearly so much fun without the mysteries I downloaded. Not to mention the tree I saved.

But now I come to the crux of this post. The excruciating detail of electronic submission is complete and with it my not-writing excuses. The book in my head is demanding to be written, so I'm finally going to dig out the old audio tapes of our 1977 five-week camping trip through the Soviet Union and start listening. Then I'll reread our diaries, skim through the photos, and begin. It was a fascinating, out-of-time experience, and I hope I can do it justice. But as Tom Stoppard has so succinctly said, "The hard part is getting to the top of page 1."