Why NOT wait to be picked up by a mainstream publisher?

Sunday, July 12th, 2009 | Posted by: Kristen Tsetsi

Ian and I are looking for things to do today. It’s nice out, but it could rain–so a long walk is out. We’d like to see Star Trek or Public Enemies, but we’re short on cash. My idea: let’s go to Davis-Kidd and look at my book sitting on the shelf!

I know how this sounds. Really. But he hasn’t seen it, yet, and as far as I’m concerned, getting a book on a bookstore shelf is very much like creating some hard-worked clay or [insert other sculpting material here] piece and having a library or school or small government building say to you, “We’d like to display your piece on our lawn.”

At least, that’s how it feels.

Since Davis-Kidd wrote me the letter saying they wanted Homefront for their store, I’ve been back twice: once to look at it on the shelf, and once to do a reading. And even though I’m pretty uncomfortable saying something that sounds a lot like, “Look at me! Look what I did!” I really do want Ian to see, to look. I don’t know why. Because I’m still excited? Because I want to share.

I also want, while I’m there, to nail someone down about a possible book club inclusion, or a signing, or anything else that’ll help me sell Homefront through their store. Not easy to do at a bookstore when the book is POD–that was an uncomfortable  learning experience.

I don’t know how much luck I’ll have while I’m there. As I pre-frustrated myself by imagining any problems I might possibly–maybe–encounter (”Sorry, can’t do it,” or “We only accept traditionally published books for book club consideration” or “I’m sorry: POD? Ah, no”), I started wondering, again, why I bother to continue marketing this book. Why I don’t just let it go.

And then I remembered a post from my other blog that’s certainly still relevant, and that answers not only the question “Why keep marketing?” but also, “Why not wait for a real publisher who’ll get you into bookstores so you don’t have to worry about all of the inevitable rejection even after you think you’ve reached a point you once thought would mean certain respect and Real Author consideration?”

The answer, as written in this re-posted blog entry:

It’s difficult, I think, not to get caught up in the “success” of things. That is, the “wanting-to-make-enough-money-for-a-doughnut-while-doing-what-you-love” thing. Making money at it means you are successful, yes. Yes?

But when I started getting interested in writing, it was because I was affected by something I read (”Story of an Hour” by Kate Chopin), and I wanted to be able to affect others in a similar way.

This message came to me [recently] via MySpace:

“I just finished [Homefront] and I just want to tell you how amazing it was. My husband is currently in Iraq and….everything in the book was so incredibly accurate. Its nice to realize I’m not crazy and everyone feels that way. … i really appreciated the book because it felt like I had written it myself, and I think that’s what makes it so powerful. Thank you so much. Just reading about someone else feeling these same private thoughts gave me some comfort.”

A good critical review is one thing (some kind of professional validation, maybe), but a reader reaction like this is something else entirely. Writing can feel like a meaningless and narcissistic pursuit that has no redeeming social value, but when something you’d hoped would touch somebody actually does, that kicks a critical review’s [added later: and real publisher's acceptance] ass (on a personal–and dare I say artistic?–level).