The Future of Publishing

Somebody posted this on my facebook page, and the comments thread has turned heated.  The article, in Publisher’s Weekly, is all about how wonderful publishers are, which is like seeing an article in Golf Monthly about what a wonderful sport golf is, or an article in Dental Hygiene Digest (I just made up these magazine names, btw.  If they actually exist, sorry.) about how everybody should brush their teeth after every meal, even in restaurants.

Apparently, whoever posted the article expected nothing but agreement from everybody, so they weren’t too happy with me.

Sure, the idea that anybody can self-publish anything has resulted in the market being flooded with absolute drek.  That’s the downside.  The upside is that a lot of stuff is getting published which wouldn’t have been getting published otherwise, and it’s just up to the readers to sort through and see what they like and what they don’t.

What I think I do

The art of writing is in no danger of dying out.  Great writers will continue to be great writers.  They just stand a better chance of getting published now.  We will never know how many great writers over the last centuries have remained unpublished.  We will never, ever know.  They weren’t published.

The main beauty of it for me is personal.  I don’t need to put my work in front of an “expert” who may or may not be a better judge of writing than me.  I can lay my work directly in front of the public.  If they like it, they like it.  If they don’t, they don’t.

It’s sort of like setting up my own language school.  When I did it, it was just because of the realization that I could make more money than I would working as a teacher at somebody else’s language school.  But, once all the paperwork was completed, the students started trickling in, and it was a going concern, it hit me: I never have to go on another job interview again, as long as I live.

Up to that point, I hadn’t realized how much I hated job interviews.

So, I will continue to publish my own work and ignore the bigwigs.  I may never sell any books.  I  may never make any money.  But I don’t have to kiss anybody’s ass.