Pleasures
First look from morning's window
The rediscovered book
Fascinated faces
Snow, the change of the seasons
The newspaper
The dog
Dialectics
Showering, swimming
Old music
Comfortable shoes
Comprehension
New music
Writing, planting
Traveling
Singing
Being friendly
- Bertolt Brecht
In 2007, while living and teaching English in China he self-published A Century is Nothing, a literary memoir.
This after receiving fifty rejection letters from literary agents, "No thanks...doesn't meet our needs...it's not mainstream for the general reader...too many characters...too long..."
The first thing a literary agent considers when reading a query, synopsis and the first five pages is, "Can I make 15% on this?"
Traditional publishing is a casino. A crap shoot. 50 Shades of Gravy is a perfect example.
After research he selected iUniverse, a print-on-demand company in the United States of Amnesia.
Print-on-demand offfered publishing packages and he figured, "What the hell. Release the monster." He paid.
They sent him an eighteen-page critique and structural suggestions. He implemented some and ignored others. He line edited the beast. He submitted a cover image and selected the design.
Six months later he received a hard copy in Turkey where he taught English. He opened the bulky brown envelope. The book slid onto the table. Thump!
The young Chinese girl's curious eyes stared at him from the cover. He'd made the image at a nursery school in a Fujian village. Her eyes said hello, I made it.
He felt grateful and elated. He turned pages, smelling paper, scanning ink. Wow, this is amazing. He also felt detached, knowing it was a deep letting go. It didn't belong to him now. It lived in the world. It was free.
The production company sent his friend in Amnesia 40 copies as part of the publishing agreement. He sent them to friends so they could read adventures. The POD had served its purpose.
In 2007, about a thousand years ago in the world of technology, E-book publishing was in its infancy. Now it's a viable alternative to POD and traditional publishers.
He canceled the agreement with iUniverse this fall and took control of the book. He printed it. He pulled out a red pen and slashed it. Into pieces.
In the process he created a smaller, lo-fat, slim version entitled, Subject to Change, his original working title. After revising (the party) he printed it, edited it again and published it on Amazon and Smashwords. Wa La.
He turned his attention to A Century is Nothing and repeated the process. Writing is re-writing or polishing.
He created a 2nd Edition with a new cover image and bought ISBNs from Bowker. He published it on Amazon and Smashwords as a paperback and E-book at a reasonable price. It ain't about the money. It's about the journey.
No editor or POD is going to drink champange from his skull.
When you come to a fork in the road, take it.
Now you know the process.
If it meets your read needs review it on Amazon (good, bad, ugly) and drop him a line. Sharing is caring. Thanks!
Happy reading!
Once upon a time there was a king.
The king wanted a painting. He'd heard about a famous painter in a distant village. "I don't care how much it costs," said the king. He sent a messenger to the painter.
"My king wants a painting," said the messenger. "Ok," said the painter, "give me two million gold coins and come back later." The messenger paid.
The messanger came back a year later. "It's not finished yet," said the painter. "Come back later."
Ten years passed.
The messenger returned. "Where is the painting for the king?"
The painter grabbed a canvas and painted a painting. "Here, give this to the king."
"What, you just made it!" said the messenger.
"Yes," said the painter, "but I've been thinking about it for ten years."
Here's a excerpt from a book he wrote. He was living in Ireland, the emerald green isle and preparing to move to Donegal in the remote northwest.
He met a shopowner in a Liberties, Dublin antique shop to buy mirrors for his travels. He gifted her a piece of gringseng cloth, a healing fabric from Bali.
“Wonderful," she said, "many thanks. Travel safe and look after yourself. Before you go I will reveal a small future to you,” she said.
“After Tiglin you will ramble across country to the Killarney hostel where, sadly and unfortunately, you will be awake in the predawn morning of December 8 hearing a BBC news announcer tell the world about John Lennon being shot in New York. You will turn your head to the wall and cry.
"Later you will take the black push bike down narrow wet twisted streets and meet a nun opening heavy steel black church gates and you will tell her what happened. You will push open the heavy wooden doors, genuflect, cross yourself, walk the length of a cold aisle and light votive candles in silence.
"Then you will ride into town and go to every news agent to buy every Irish paper with the screaming black tabloid headlines full of desperate black ink and grainy images of death personified before retiring to a pub to sit by a peat fire drinking, reading, and sadly, quietly remembering John’s creativity and his words Imagine and Give Peace a Chance.”
Christmas is coming, Orphan said to Elf.
Tell me about it. I'm getting crazy wish lists from kids around the globe.
Give me an example of some serious needs.
Sure, here's one from a girl in Cambodia.
"Please give me clean drinking water. I have a cell phone. It's great for entertainment but useless when it comes to meeting my real needs. Call me and tell me where I can get the water. And, if it's not too much to ask, could you please give me some medicine? My grandmother is dying of a broken heart."
Whew, that's a tough one, said Orphan. What are you going to do?
Damn the Mekong River and divert a stream of life to her village.
Sounds perfect. What about the medicine?
Will a placebo heal a broken heart?
Take two and call me tomorrow. Tomorrow knows the answer.
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