What Counts as “BEING PUBLISHED”?

 

Going back to Karen Jones Gowens’ list of questions for writers,  (see here) I will address my personal take on the matter of whether self-publishing (in addition to traditional publishing) also counts as “being published.”

 

Whether labeled “co-op,” “subsidy,” or the dreaded “vanity,” self-publishing in its many forms amounts to the writer paying to be published. Regardless of how much of the preliminary work the writer does themselves (are you also a designer? An illustrator? A specialist in art cover?), there is an expense to putting out the product, and the writer bears this expense.

 

I respect the effort and the quality of the best self-published books. They are “published,” in the basic sense of being made publicly available.

 

But your work isn’t “being published” if you are the active force (as in paying and designing) to make the work public. To “be published” is in passive tense for a reason. This means others have taken the work and brought it to market on their dime.

 

To me, “being published” means traditional publishing paid you. Ideally, with advance and royalties, or even just royalties. [I’ve had one of each.] If you are the publisher of your own work, it takes nothing from the work itself as such. But you (i.e., your work) haven’t been published.

 

Just my take, one of many, and I’m claiming no right or wrong in my understanding.

A MYSTERY, INSIDE AN ENIGMA

 

“A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma”

That which is so dense and secretive as to be totally indecipherable or impossible to foretell. It is from a line used by Winston Churchill to describe the intentions and interests of Russia in 1939

 

I was thinking about what makes an enigmatic character. Think Inspector Dalgleish from the P.D. James novels, or Clarisse from Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. Charismatic and lovable, but what drives them is only hinted at, never neatly solved.

 

These are my favorite kind of characters and my favorite sort of stories, where everything isn’t neatly wrapped in a bow.

 

Standing in awe of the mystery is what I consider contemplation prayer to be. It is how I understand notions of the divine. It is also what makes for the most powerful art.

 

The headwinds, when writing for young readers in particular, are the how-to conventions of the publishing professionals who insist on clarity of motives and neat endings that resolve all questions.

 

Maybe this is why I keep The Little Prince front of mind. He asked a lot of questions and, while a few answers float in here and there, the little guy himself remained an enigma.

 

This little prince is testament that even stories for all ages can feature riddles wrapped in mystery inside an enigma.

SEEKING STRUCTURE

 

Structure is the first aspect of building a story. It’s also how we frame coherent thoughts.

This post speaks of how crucial it is for writers, specifically of memoirs.

Books like SAVE THE CAT in all its variations give not only rough, but very detailed story beats.

If you’ve read the original, written specifically for screenwriters, you will never see most movies the same way. You’ll recognize these story beats, or turns, clicking in like clockwork.

At least for me, all genre stories begin to read the same.

The mini surprises lie in the specifics, but never in the rising or receding action/tension. The cat gets saved with numbing predictability.

Good story structure is a safety net. But please don’t be a slave to it.

Who am I saying this to?

The storyteller, of course. The storyteller in me.