I began this self-publishing journey with the view that if my work wasn't commercial enough for the large publishers, I'd publish it myself and use that native imagination to market my work. So far I've been pleased with my humble success. Sure, I'm not going to retire on my earnings, but then there are a lot of my colleagues who are published conventionaly who are in the same boat.
My difficulty, however, is that I also sort of slid into being a full blown publisher. While I fully acknowledge and accept the fact I'm the one who chose to sail this ship, there are times I scratch my head and look around, wondering what on earth I've done. I put in about 55 hours a week as a publisher, reading submissions, editing, laying out books, sometimes creating covers, dealing with a ridiculous amount of correspondence and solicitions, and marketing. Sure, it's easy to say I need help, but given this is a very tiny publishing house, with an equally tiny budget, the financial resources to pay for help simply aren't there.
And while putting in those 55 hours a week, somewhere in there I try to find small chunks for myself, to bash out a few lines, a page or two, on my current work in progress, The Rose Guardian. So far I've been working on this novel for two years. I naively thought I'd have it finished by now. Silly me. I only have about a quarter of it written.
To make that task just a little more difficult, I've upped the requirements of this novel. There are essentially three stories being told; the first is the story of a woman dealing with the death of her mother, a relationship that was never a happy one, and so there is a lot of angst, grief and discovery in that story. The second story is that of the mother, told from the grave through the medium of her diaries. I've chosen to do that because there are always two sides to a story, always different perspectives of reality and truth, so I felt that before the reader, and in fact my main character, assassinate the mother, it was only fair to allow her to defend herself, to present her case. The third story is somewhat of a red herring, told from the perspective of a little girl who has created for herself a fantasy world, filled with fears and uncertainties, dark creatures and some creatures whose benevolence is questionable, like the Rose Guardian she meets.
The story is part CanLit, part dark fantasy, my usual uncategorizable melange.
Because of the depth of this story, and the care and attention it requires, finding 10 minutes to hammer out a few phrases just isn't getting the task done. Were I writing a simple narrative designed for pure escapism it might be a little easier to bash out this story. But it's not a simple narrative. It's one of complexity and subtlety, and so when I'm gifted with a few free minutes I'm usually trying to bring myself back up to speed on the novel, trying to recapture the emotion and ambiance.
I will finish The Rose Guardian. Of that I'm certain. It's just this novel is going to take much longer than I'd anticipated. But, then, since when did my life ever follow a prescribed path?
My difficulty, however, is that I also sort of slid into being a full blown publisher. While I fully acknowledge and accept the fact I'm the one who chose to sail this ship, there are times I scratch my head and look around, wondering what on earth I've done. I put in about 55 hours a week as a publisher, reading submissions, editing, laying out books, sometimes creating covers, dealing with a ridiculous amount of correspondence and solicitions, and marketing. Sure, it's easy to say I need help, but given this is a very tiny publishing house, with an equally tiny budget, the financial resources to pay for help simply aren't there.
And while putting in those 55 hours a week, somewhere in there I try to find small chunks for myself, to bash out a few lines, a page or two, on my current work in progress, The Rose Guardian. So far I've been working on this novel for two years. I naively thought I'd have it finished by now. Silly me. I only have about a quarter of it written.
To make that task just a little more difficult, I've upped the requirements of this novel. There are essentially three stories being told; the first is the story of a woman dealing with the death of her mother, a relationship that was never a happy one, and so there is a lot of angst, grief and discovery in that story. The second story is that of the mother, told from the grave through the medium of her diaries. I've chosen to do that because there are always two sides to a story, always different perspectives of reality and truth, so I felt that before the reader, and in fact my main character, assassinate the mother, it was only fair to allow her to defend herself, to present her case. The third story is somewhat of a red herring, told from the perspective of a little girl who has created for herself a fantasy world, filled with fears and uncertainties, dark creatures and some creatures whose benevolence is questionable, like the Rose Guardian she meets.
The story is part CanLit, part dark fantasy, my usual uncategorizable melange.
Because of the depth of this story, and the care and attention it requires, finding 10 minutes to hammer out a few phrases just isn't getting the task done. Were I writing a simple narrative designed for pure escapism it might be a little easier to bash out this story. But it's not a simple narrative. It's one of complexity and subtlety, and so when I'm gifted with a few free minutes I'm usually trying to bring myself back up to speed on the novel, trying to recapture the emotion and ambiance.
I will finish The Rose Guardian. Of that I'm certain. It's just this novel is going to take much longer than I'd anticipated. But, then, since when did my life ever follow a prescribed path?
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