If you've read my very first post, you may recall how I lamented about breaking into the 'biz' and being confronted with crass 'Elitism', and the Elitist treatment of new authors. To this day, this ridiculousness continues, but on a much, MUCH smaller scale. You see, since then, we Indies have established ourselves as a burgeoning new dominant species in the literary world. We have put our collective feet down and stood our ground, even gaining ground in some aspects. Baby steps to be sure, but we ARE advancing toward our goals, whatever they may be.
Our only obstacles? The Elitists that will try and break our spirit, and attack us with outdated ideologies. They will tell us that we're not 'real' writers due to not having a publishing contract, or God forbid, scholastic credentials that apparently serve as 'The Golden Ticket into the club. They will dismiss us and cut us down whenever they can, just because they BELIEVE they can. They also believe that traditional publishing is the only way to go. These Elitists suffer from what I like to call 'Keith Richards Syndrome', they're dead and have been for some time, they just aren't aware of it.
It's almost kinda sad.
It was a joke, Keith. Calm down. |
The title of this post is 'We. Are. Family.' Meaning the community of Indie Authors. It's an analogy, and as I've mentioned in another post, I LOVE analogies.
So let's break this one down.
We are not a perfect family, we're not The Cosby's or whatever the current 'perfect family' may be at the moment. We bicker, we argue, we disagree, we might even come to blows if not protected by the anonymity of the Internet. Good thing that Virtual Reality never really took off, eh?
But despite the petty grumblings, we are a close-knit family that supports and encourages each other, at least for the most part. There are a few of us that haven't quite let go of the 'old ways' and still maintain hope that getting that contract will be their salvation from obscurity into the limelight.
And as much as it hurts to admit, they have a bit of a point.
Hurts, don't it? |
The one thing that we, as Indies, haven't quite got the grasp of yet, is breaking down that wall that separates us from The Big Timers. Sure, some of us can compete with The Big Timers in a literary sense, I've read many an Indie book that wouldn't be out of place on those hallowed bookshelves, we can edit, or employ someone to edit with the best of them. If that were the only criteria, many of us would be doing quite well for ourselves, but alas, without the 'Brand Name' of a reputable publisher backing us, getting our name out there is like ice skating uphill. There is only so much we can do by ourselves, but Goddamn it, we are fighting the good fight. We do things that The Big Timers never have to do.
It ain't easy. |
Kinda like this, only not. |
And he is absolutely right, if you're in this biz seeking instant gratification for all of your hard work, I have four words for you.
I'm not trying to be mean or discourage anyone from trying, mind you. Just advising you to prepare for a long and arduous journey. There WILL be times where it seems hopeless and hard, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. You'll want to pack it in and give up, especially when you see The Big Timers raking it in, and you know in your heart of hearts that some of them suck dry hyena ass (Patent Pending). I know of more than a few great Indies that doubt themselves a lot more than they should because their ship hasn't quite come in yet. But that is when you turn to the 'Family', share your concerns, your doubts, your frustrations. For the most part, you will find support, encouragement, a shoulder to cry on if need be, because that's what a family is supposed to do.
What you absolutely must NOT do, is take heed of the naysayers (read: Elitists) that will prey on your doubts, your fears, if only to stroke their own unfounded egos. If confronted with one, you have two choices: You can ignore them and hope they go away back to the dark recess of their own fears and doubts, or you can do what I do and go straight for their throat, leaving them a twitching mass of detritus in the gutter, leaving them to regret ever crossing your path in the first place.
Pictured: The Aftermath. |