Publishing: something old, something new

  1. Coffee frapputhingy in front of me: check. (One teaspoon instant, coffee, five ice cubes, one banana, two drops of French vanilla stevia liquid, equal parts soy milk and water.)
  2. Bowl of granola with yoghurt: check.
  3. New batches of soy milk and yoghurt in their respective makers: check.

My hippie 2.0, DIY, work-from-home routine is restarted.

Yesterday I sent my copywriting in at a ridiculously early time and caught the bus to Inverness. l’d seen a “digital publishing” workshop listed in the local paper and figured I really should go to it. I wasn’t sure why, because I kind of already know how to do all that. I saw it was being put on by two guys from Blasted Heath Press, a digital-only imprint, and hoped it wouldn’t be a “selling from the stage” session about their services. Plus I just didn’t get the value in introducing that intermediating layer of traditional publishing back into an era when you don’t need anyone’s permission or assistance to get your work out in front of an audience.

The bus ride took a few hours, during which l read some of Philip K Dick’s Ubik on my e-reader (struck — and honoured — by some thematic similarities to my own book, Idea in Stone). As the guy who used to buy e-books then print and bind them to read offline, I am now thoroughly sold on the value and convenience of this new form, which has easily trebled the amount I’m reading — and by that I mean reading, not ‘screening’ or skimming or whatever we call that activity that’s not really reading which we do when we’re rapaciously consuming data from the web.

The other participants were a neat group of people who came to the event from a wide range of backgrounds and for different reasons. I suppose you could call it “networking”, but it was really about community. These were all switched-on people with their own wealth of experiences, and I genuinely hoped I might be useful to them by sharing what I’ve learned — though I was quite conscious of not wanting to be the know-it-all jerk at the back of the room constantly piping in with, “Actually, I think you’ll find that”¦”

And that wasn’t really necessary here, because it quickly became apparent that Kyle and Allen, the two leaders of this event, really knew every facet of this as-yet-unpaved frontier, and their most winning quality was the honesty with which they readily admitted everything they hadn’t figured out yet — most of which no one has figured out, either.

Funnily, ironically, or whateverily, my distinguishing feature throughout the day was that I make physical books. (I’m really glad I brought a few!) It was great to be able to evangelise, not for me, but for this as a possibility for independent authors — the one piece most writers think isn’t available to them without a traditional publisher or a complicated arrangement with a print-on-demand company. Getting to contribute that perspective restored my energy for doing that work.

Speaking of energy, that’s what ultimately sold me on the notion of presses like Blasted Heath: I have limited stores of energy when it comes to strategising and taking action on the “front stage” part of my writing career. Aside from what this press offers authors in terms of proper editing and cover design, they’re working to keep abreast of all the different requirements and terms and tactics for working with organizations like Amazon, and for creating a marketing approach for a new title. That’s the part I’m worst at, where there are major cracks in the pipes that would carry ‘steam’ to that
essential aspect of my business.

While readers need filters for discovering work they’d like in the vast sea of options, both traditional and independent, I can see this model working well for authors who don’t want to learn to do every single thing themselves, or who want a team of experts to help them deliver the best product and to do it effectively, upping their chances of success. I definitely recognize ways in which I scupper my chances by not doing what I ‘should’ or shying away from the parts that make me feel queasy.

Yet the event truly wasn’t an advert for what they do; they were very forthright in showing us every step of their process, and even doing a hands-on session about how to build an e-book and list it on Amazon.

The books I write are quite different from the titles they’re representing, which are mostly crime — a mainstay of Scottish literature — so I felt very comfortable talking to them throughout the event and over a pint afterward without worrying about schmoozing. I also met the person who put the
event together, as well as a couple of other authors whose compelling backgrounds I got to chat with them about.

It turned out that this publishing event was an addition to a well-established film and music development festival called GoNorth that’s been happening in Inverness for several years. I even got a “swag bag”, which I assumed would be full of of future recycling, but contained some CDs and a DVD of Scottish short films that I’m actually quite looking forward to checking out.

So rah for community! It was nice to get back amongst like-minded people who are up to the kinds of things I am. Perhaps that’s as, or almost as, important to an artist finding an audience.

P.S. I composed this on the typewriter. Gosh it’s nice to do one thing at a time.