WHY SELF-PUBLISH?

First, I want to address the elephant in the room. For many years, self-publication was considered a symptom of wealthy mediocrity. Not that there weren’t exceptions. Perhaps you’ve heard of Benjamin Franklin, Edgar Allan Poe, Gertrude Stein, Walt Whitman, Charles Dickens, and Mark Twain? All were self-published. However the conventional wisdom (and in many cases, the reality) has been that if you were self-published, it was because you just weren’t that good. Or else, why wouldn’t someone have published you?

TRADITIONAL-PRESSES TODAY

I don’t want to cry foul, but contexts are hugely important. The publishing industry is going through a period of contraction. Major presses are losing money much as the music industry has been for a decade. In large part, publishers have not been able to adapt rapidly enough to new technology. And while we live in an unusually conservative era for literature in general, an additional economic effect is that publishers tend to stick with what is “safe” and profitable: a range of nonfiction, memoirs, and childrens literature.

Typically, Hungry Rats would be more of an ideal match for the small presses that have supported avant-garde literature for the last hundred years. And yet, these presses are feeling the squeeze as well. Major retailers are less likely to stock titles pressed on a smaller scale, and some very famous presses (such as the venerable New Directions) have shifted their focus to works in translation.

Even where publication is possible, the results are not always great. One month ago, a published friend explained that her press had not supplied her with any promotional budget whatsoever; a typical problem for a small-press. Another friend found himself stuck with a mediocre cover and had no recourse because even the smallest presses typically contract with preferred cover designers and leave the writer out of negotiations. These situations are, unfortunately, more the norm than the exception.

The net effect of all of this is that it is a particularly bad time to seek to publish experimental work in an established marketplace.

SELF-PUBLICATION TODAY

But there’s room for a “glass half-full” argument. As traditional publishers have become less and less of a viable option, self-publication has become more reasonable.

For example, the standard offset printing process cost thousands of dollars and because the cost of printing was so great, a huge amount of money could be lost by over- or underestimating sales potential. This alone was reason enough to discourage most authors from self-publishing.  New digital printing processes are able to print a books one-at-a-time, and while the profit per book is less, the decreased overhead and risk more than compensates on a smaller print run. As a result, self-publishing has increased as it is financially possible for more writers.

Also, the fact that traditional publishers have not responded to new technologies means that self-published authors have room to create a more innovative and imaginative promotional strategy than they could in collaboration with a publisher. For example, I have modeled my strategy for Hungry Rats on that of many bands I respect; a novel can be the site of and premise for artistic invention. We know this from famous books that have been made into movies, art, music, and spin-offs, but there is no reason that these initiatives cannot be executed on a smaller scale. In fact, Hungry Rats has already resulted in the recording of two songs: “The Hunger of the Rats” by Mr. Automatic and the “Hungry Rats Theme” by Elisabeth Blair.

MY OWN STORY

I have only considered self-publication as something of a last resort, and this decision caps off a three-year process of submission. In that time, I have called upon every publishing contact I have made in Chicago, New York, California, and Michigan, and I have submitted Hungry Rats to dozens of presses and literary agents. In many cases, it was dismissed peremptorily. Publication through a slush pile is unlikely under the very best of circumstances, and as I described, the market is going against me.  Significantly, the more nuanced rejections noted the novel’s “niche-market” and “unconventionality” of the writing (as opposed to any lack of quality).

As time has gone on, self-publication has seemed more and more reasonable. For starters, I am convinced of the quality of the novel I am publishing. Hungry Rats has been thoroughly vetted. It has been revised six times since its initial draft in 2003, and the key fourth revision was executed at the New School under the scrutiny of a peer group and the guidance of Jeffery Renard Allen, author of the groundbreaking novel Rails Under My Back. Hungry Rats has received both conventional praise from readers and reviewers — one commenter said that it was “the best project of this sort I’ve ever seen” — as well endorsements specific to the stylized commentary and cynicism of noir: “it left me with a sense of palpable evil” and “I was profoundly disturbed.”

Additionally, I am now able to take advantage of a brilliant editor — Elisabeth Blair — and a wonderful designer — Sam Perkins-Harbin of Forge 22. I have to consider my resources equal to those of many small-presses, and the corresponding creative control is both liberating and intimidating.

It is not without reluctance that I pursue this route to publication, but it is also with a keen appreciation of the opportunities it offers. Writing is a risky career under the best of circumstances. Sometimes, the rewards will only respond to an increase in risk. Given the length of this novel’s arc the risk is reasonable.

A FINAL WORD

I came into the arts by what some might call a radical ideology. Not political radicalism, but artistic radicalism: a presumption of relevance. It started with theater: the Michigan Renaissance Festival taught a kind of sketch improv that built characters over months from the ground up, and Flint Youth Theatre was defiantly experimental despite common and mistaken assumptions about the lack of sophistication in a youth audience. In college, University Theater was almost entirely student run, allowing me to take risks and make mistakes that would not have been possible at most programs. And after I made the change to prose writing, the New School offered not only holistic engagement through workshops, seminars, and colloquia, but a broad approach to literary concentration and plenty of faculty debate and dissent.

In short, I have been taught to believe that the arts are not only a challenging and critically engaging field, but that they are rich and important to culture. That no healthy culture can exist without healthy arts.

Now I could have gone into law, or I could have gone into the social sciences, and these are very worthy and tangible ways to make a positive impact on the world. Today, more than thirteen years into a career in the arts, and having filled that time creating socially dynamic writing, I am straining to see a positive result — a positive difference — in the world as a result of how I have spent my time.

Hungry Rats is not the last stand, per se, but I do feel it is a reckoning for me personally that I should not underestimate. I am now at a major life juncture; my wife and I are expecting a child, and will probably be moving into a house in the next year or so. The amount of time I can sink into a career unwilling to yield results (or payment) is becoming something I cannot responsibly take for granted.

If Hungry Rats fails, then I will have to soberly assess my own talents and abilities, and whether this really is the best way to “leave the world a better place.” I will have to ask this question and proactively respond to the answer.

In short, this is my novel, and this is why I believe it has to be published. This is why I am publishing it this year, and why I am choosing to self-publish.

I have written this to answer the questions of potential donors and allies, but I realize that I have probably not answered all areas of concern. I hope, therefore, that you will contact me with any outstanding ideas, problems, opportunities, or questions.

Thank you for your continued support.