Same old typewriter, same old public domain |
What I don't like, I have recently realized, is selling. I came to this realization last summer, at When Words Collide 2018 in Calgary. I'd never been to this conference before, and so hadn't realized just how much of its programming time is devoted to the business end of fiction. I don't even know what Amazon keywords are, much less how to find the right ones. More importantly, I don't want to know.
I remember the moment of revelation quite clearly. I'd signed up for the autograph session (I've done these at Bouchercon and World Fantasy and even Worldcon, I believe) and arrived to discover that the room was full of people selling their (mostly self-published) books. Over the couple of hours I spent in that room I counted maybe a dozen people walking around with books for signing, looking for the relevant authors in the overheated maze. And I'm probably being generous in my count.
I don't want to do this, I thought. And then, a few days later while enjoying a FRED in Edmonton with alumni of ESFCAS, I had a secondary enlightenment: I don't have to do this. For a variety of reasons that aren't relevant here, I don't absolutely need any more money than I already have; I certainly don't need the minuscule amounts most self-published authors earn. Not if it comes at the expense of writing time. And charging money for your writing is a lot of work.
So I've decided to stop worrying so much about selling. My new work still goes out, of course: I'm not idiot enough to turn down the prospect of a decent contract. But now there's a time-limit involved: if a book doesn't have representation or a contract within six months of its being ready for publication, then I'm going to just give it away.
I realize I've buried the lede here. But I'm not finished, either. I'll be back with a more detailed explanation tomorrow or in the next few days.
*Most of the time. The writer who says she's never been frustrated with the process is lying.
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