Publishing vs. Self-Publishing [Once Again]

I’ve had it. It’s not the rejection letters, and it’s not the lengthy timespan between the moment that I mail the submission and finally receive my rejection. It’s just the process. The reformatting every story every time I send it out because this editor wants italics and this one doesn’t, this one wants paragraphs indented and that one wants flush paragraphs with a space in between. This editor wants Courier New while that one prefers Times New Roman. This one wants your name at the top of every page, that one wants your name and address at the bottom of every page, those guys don’t want anything on any page, but do give a little life history before your story is even accepted. And if you fail at any one little part of that equation, your beloved story will be thrown unceremoniously into the trash.

I realize there are millions of stories out there in competition against one another and that editors and agents are locked into a mad reading dash to get through them all as timely as they can, but I’m just sick of it.

I had a lot more fun writing when I was just writing for myself and didn’t have to endure the waiting on the edge of my seat for a rejection slip. Sure, I’ve had some acceptances, and they’re great, but you know what? I’ve been paid a whopping twelve bucks for the four accepted stories I’ve written so far (plus one contributor’s copy of the anthology my work appeared in). Considering the work I’ve invested into this game, the return is simply not worth it. Especially not now, when the Internet is re-programming the publishing industry as we speak. And besides, the acceptances I have received, along with some very well-worded rejections, just give me what I feel like I needed all along: confirmation that my writing is good. That my stories can be read and enjoyed. But also, that they may not fit in with what the publishers are interpreting as market needs right now.

I don’t have the answer yet, but I’m paying attention. I know people don’t browse the ‘Net for fiction, but I also know that a self-published novel that gets linked up on a high-visibility site (like BoingBoing) can lead to a professional publication as well (see David Wellington). Regardless, I’m throwing in the towel on the publishing industry. I’ve sent my last submission. Editors one and all, you can breathe a sigh of relief, because my circulation of twelve to twenty stories per year has just come to a screeching halt, and your slush pile is now about .98 ounces lighter for it.

None of this is to say that I’m quitting writing, although I did consider doing just that in recent months. But no, this is what I am. I have been writing for fun, as a hobby, since I was twelve years old and I don’t have the brakes to be able to stop what I am. And this is also not to say that I won’t actively seek and audience. There are other avenues now, with Scribd, CreateSpace and even upstart DeviantArt out there, it’s becoming easier and easier for the indie writer to publish their own material. If I happen to meet an editor or publisher who might be interested in my work, I’ll not hesitate to try to network them into my web. But the submissions, they are draining my soul, and I am done with them.

There is a good side to this, though, so rejoice, Internets! The good news is that I’ll no longer be restricted by what I can and cannot publish myself. Since I have nothing in circulation, I can self-publish anything I like. And that’s what I aim to do. Beginning today, mattmitchellfiction.com is genuinely going to be about Matt Mitchell’s Fiction. I am but a small independent writer in a great big world, I don’t seek to have renown or fame or wealth beyond my wildest imaginings. Earning a living for my efforts would be nice, but I have a good job, so it is not required. I am going back to writing for the joy of it, to writing for me, to writing what I want to write. I’m no longer writing for what I think a publisher might want or need. I’m not writing what I hope might sell. I’m back to being me.

Hello, me, I’m glad to see you’re back. I am, once again, the emminently unpublishable Matt Mitchell. Thank God.