So, I just read a blog discussing the dangers of self-publishing, the take home message being that sometimes a manuscript should live in the drawer and not ever be published.
Because it stinks like month old ricotta cheese.
Ok, I get that. Sometimes, a book isn't ready for the world. Or the world isn't ready for the book.
But just because an agent or a publisher or an army of agent publishers, with claws, and fangs, and herpes say it isn't ready for prime time, doesn't mean it isn't.
I think the point I am trying to make through this ponderous babble is that there isn't really much to lose in self-publishing. And this is true even if your book is the biggest piece of garbage to wash up on the south shore. Really. Because once you put it out there, people will read it... or not. And people will like it ... or not. And it seems like you should be able to give that choice to the reading public. Lord knows I've read enough stinkers released by the publishing world. And I've read some self-published gems that deserve the accolades and adoration of the literary world. And a movie deal. Like my book. Star-crossed: Secrets.
Not really. I'm not that arrogant. But other books... like Tammy Blackwell's Destiny Binds.
So, that is my opinion for the day.
Pardee out.
