Hens Lay Eggs
food for thought
Ain’t no such thing as a self-publishing company
Over the last year, I have seen with increasing frequency people asking advice about “self-publishing” companies.
Let’s get one thing straight: There is no such thing as a “self-publishing company.”
When it comes to publishing, the author has three basic options:
- Traditional publishing
- Hired publishing (aka hybrid publishing)
- Self-publishing.
Traditional publishing is the default concept that springs to mind when one thinks of publishing. The author writes a book, submits it to a publishing company, and the company publishes it.
If only the process were so simple. In actuality, the process goes much like this:
- Write the manuscript.
- Edit and revise the manuscript. Repeat until it’s as good as you can possibly get it.
- Write the query letter and/or book proposal.
- Write the synopsis and/or outline.
- Research publishing companies and literary agencies.
- From a short list of publishers and agents most likely to handle your work, look up their author guidelines and follow them exactly.
- Submit and wait.
- Expect rejection.
- Submit and wait again.
- Lather, rinse, repeat steps 6, 7, 8, and 9 until your manuscript is accepted or you exhaust all viable publishing venues.
What most ill-informed or naive authors call “self-publishing companies” are what the savvy among us identify as vanity publishers. To be fair, not all publishers-for-hire (aka hybrid publishers) are predatory and exist to exploit naive, ambitious authors who ought to know better. Some do provide good service for the money. All are expensive.
Follow the money. The key here distinguishing hybrid or vanity publishers from traditional publishers is the flow of money. A publisher in the traditional sense pays the author a share of royalties earned from book sales. A hired publishing company charges the author: the author pays for one-stop-shop that usually provides a suite of services including editing, book design, cover design, publishing, and maybe even marketing.
Because most hired publishers are indeed vanity presses, the quality of their service (and products) is usually substandard. Not only that, but vanity presses also command a hefty percentage of the author’s royalties and may even require ownership of the copyright.
Self-publishing means the author is the publisher. The author controls the project and publishes the book on his or her own behalf. This does not mean the author does everything by himself or herself. Because a traditional publisher employs professionals (e.g., editors, designers), it’s perfectly acceptable and normal for an author to hire freelance professionals to perform those production-related tasks that he or she either cannot do or cannot do well.
Yes, I’m one of those freelance professionals.
In self-publishing model, the author pays those hired professionals, but does not pay to publish. Amazon (aka Kindle Direct Publishing), IngramSpark, and other services offer online platforms through which anyone may upload their files and publish them for free. That’s right: free.
A little due diligence on your end to educate yourself will save you big headaches later.
A necessary escape
I returned from vacation last week. Although I write stories that take place in different countries, on different planets, and in different realms, I actually had never traveled outside the USA until this year. I actually hadn’t even possessed a passport until last year. Acquiring the passport made traveling outside the USA a real possibility.
Since my elder son died in 2021, I have made a practice of taking a commemoration vacation in late October. My son was born in late October, and staying home leads to wallowing in grief. Therefore, I escape. I go somewhere to see things I’ve never seen, do things I don’t normally do, and distract my mind. On my boy’s birthday, I go to Mass and pray. The rest of the day is generally spent wallowing in grief, but this year I further engaged in distraction: a trip to the Canadian Railway Museum where the trains were decorated for Halloween.
This year’s vacation took me first to Montreal and next to Niagara Falls, both on the Canadian side of the border.
Our first stop was in Brockton to see the Aquatarium. “What’s an aquatarium?” I asked. We didn’t know and we weren’t on a tight schedule, so we took the exit and discovered the aquatarium was closed. However, we entered a shop selling furniture and gifts and enjoyed a lovely conversation with the sales clerk. I bought a small jar of sour cherry jam. Delicious!
I travel with my best friend, Cinrdra, a fellow equestrian. For the Montreal portion of our vacation, she rented an apartment on Rue Sherbrooke, about two miles from Old Town. The apartment itself was chic in design with two large bedrooms, two large bathrooms, a kitchen larger than my own, a roomy dining area with table and four chairs, and an adequate living area with sofa, loveseat, coffee table, and television. The kitchen was adequately stocked with what we needed: pots, pans, silverware, dishes, cups, basic appliances. However, some things weren’t up to what I consider modest standards. In Cindra’s bedroom, the bed had a broken leg, both pocket doors were broken, and one of the kitchen chairs was broken. Both bathrooms came equipped with two towels, but no washcloths or hand towels. Neither bathroom had soap for hands or bodies. Good thing we brought our own! There were other issues, but overall the space suited us well being in a mixed residential and commercial neighborhood.
Because we’ve learned that dining out for lunch is much less expensive than dining out for supper, we went grocery shopping for some basic foodstuffs to tide us through. I brought a Crock-Pot® and made beef and noodles one evening. (Super simple recipe—and it’s tasty!) The Crock-Pot got a mention from the customs officer when we left Canada: it’s not something one usually sees in people going on or going home from vacation. We explained it, and the officer commented that it was a good idea to have supper waiting for us after a day of adventuring.
There was a wonderful little cafe just two blocks away where we ate breakfast. Less than a block away, a Canada Trust branch kindly exchanged US dollars for Canadian money and educated us about “loonies” and “toonies,” the country’s dollar and two-dollar coins. We learned that Canada no longer uses pennies and their “paper” money is actually plastic. We met several friendly and helpful people. The proprietor of Burger de Ville and the bus drivers for Montreal’s public transit system deserve special mentions for their helpfulness. Without them, we’d probably still be wandering about, lost in a city of 4 million people!
We hit St. Joseph’s Oratory (magnificent), Pointe-a-Calliere Archeology and History Museum, Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours Chapel (lovely!), and the Canadian Rail Museum (fascinating!). We had fun trying to read, discern, and pronounce French words and getting used to Canadian currency. I think I’ve got merci down pat now.
After three days in Montreal, we drove to Niagara where I thought I’d rented a cottage and discovered that the cottage was an apartment. The Booking.com listing was really misleading, although the property owner was excellent about communicating with me, especially when my phone refused to show emails containing access code details to enter the building. The apartment was, in real estate terms, cozy: that means cramped. The tiny kitchen was well-stocked with everything we needed: dishes, utensils, pots, appliances, etc. The two bedrooms were tiny. The two bathrooms were generously sized compared to the rest of the apartment. The living room doubled as both dining area and third bedroom: very, very cramped. It was good that we didn’t need a third bedroom. Because the television didn’t get broadcast or cable TV channels, I used my laptop computer to stream movies for evening entertainment.
Cindra and I tend to be of the early-to-bed types. She rises much earlier than I do, though.
Regardless of the cramped accommodations, the apartment proved itself adequate to our needs. We met my son’s good friend on the American side and toured Goat Island (beautiful!) and took a painting class (fun!). The falls themselves were spectacular! A visit to Niagara Falls should be on your bucket list. Yes, being tourists, we did the tourist thing and signed up for a 3-hour cruise. All joking references to Gilligan’s Island aside, the cruise started by bus and ended with a boat ride to the base of the falls. Yes, we got wet, very wet. Kudos go to our tour guide, John, who was both informative and engaging.
On the ninth day of our vacation, we drove home.
It’s good to be home. I’ve not yet regained the burning desire to write stories again, but I needed that break from the monotony of work and the distraction from grief.
Feeling contemplative
The nice thing about WordPress (and other programs) is that I can schedule posts in advance of their publication. The timing of this post comes a couple of days after my elder son’s birthday.
We used to joke about birthdays. I was born on Friday the 13th. The due date for my oldest son’s birth was Halloween. It seemed fitting.
However, Matt was born early on October 27.
He died early, too, in January 2021. He was only 24 years old.
Traveling in January usually isn’t a very good idea due to predictably inclement weather. Like many bereft parents, I have the urge to escape over the anniversary of my child’s death, but travel really isn’t feasible. Aside from the harship of travel in the depths of winter, my departure means my husband is solely responsible for the care of our animals. In winter, animal husbandry is hard. It’s a lot of work. It’s not fair to dump that responsibility on him so I can distract my mind.
Matt was his son, too. He still grieves as I do.
So, I take my escape over Matt’s birthday.
Since Matt’s death, my travel destinations have extra meaning other than distraction from sorrow. The year he died, I went to New Orleans where Matt visited for a music festival. I remember him enthusing about seeing Guns N’ Roses in concert. There was no such festival going on when I went there, but I enjoyed exploring the French Quarter, going on a swamp tour, and experiencing the city he so enjoyed.
The following year, I went to Colonial Williamsburg, a place I’ve long wanted to visit. That destination was for me; Matt would have had no desire to go there. History wasn’t really his thing. Last year I went to Charleston, South Carolina, another bastion of significant southern history. (I like history.)
This year I’ve made my first journey outside the USA.
I’d heard that Montreal is a wonderful place to visit. Plus Matt thoroughly enjoyed his one visit to Niagara Falls, so I wanted to see that, too. This year’s vacation split locations: a few days in Montreal and a few days in Niagara—all on the Canadian side.
Perhaps next year I’ll go further afield. I’d love to visit the various countries of Europe, from Norway to Italy. Of course, I’d have to pick just one or two to visit in the short time I have to escape and explore, but such an excursion abroad would do the trick of distracting my thoughts.
Matt enjoyed traveling, although he never went outside the USA. I travel in his memory.
Author
Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.
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Blog Swaps
Looking for a place to swap blogs? Holly Bargo at Hen House Publishing is happy to reciprocate Blog Swaps in 2019.
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