I have recently been considering whether to self-publish my books on Amazon, so that they can be read on Kindle as well as through printo on demand. Although I have high hopes that a real publisher will want the PhD novel, due to its challenging nature, I can’t quite give up on the creations that lie wasted on the shelves of my study, wan and pale through lack of attention. I know that they are flawed, but I don’t think it would take very long to make them readable. And I have read much, much worse that is published via Amazon. So I am wondering, what would other people do? I don’t feel as if it would be a bad thing – at least people might be reading my work instead of me feeling as if those years of writing were a waste of time.
It brings me back to the question of why we write. I love writing, but I also love the idea that someone else might be reading my work. It makes me nervous – what if they don’t like it? What if they, in fact, hate it? But any reaction is at least a real reaction, and it would give me something to talk about at the very least. I recently read a post on Twitter or Facebook saying that life is made of stories. My life is certainly made of stories, one after the other, crowding each other out in my mind, the voices of narration and commentary, and I love to set them free. Maybe I should share. Maybe it is risking too much. Maybe self-publishing is the final admission that I may never be a ‘real’ published writer. Seeing my name on my one academic book publication was so exciting, but it would be nothing like seeing my name on my own published novel. So . . . do I wait, and hope . . . or do I do what so many others have done, and self-publish and be damned!?!
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