Don’t Drink the Koolade

Some of you know the story of how I came to be an indie-published author (aka self-published). Probably more of you don’t.

The highlights are here:

  • Doctor said to put my affairs in order
  • Initial panic at thought of dying
  • I didn’t want my novel manuscripts thrown out by the kids
  • I sought out the best solution for me
  • I acted on it by publishing my first book
  • People liked the first, so I did the second one, too
  • I was Indie before it was cool
  • The doctor was wrong

That doctor actually did me a favor. I love what being in charge of my writing career does for me.

However, I see new and wanna-be authors making costly, unthinking mistakes in seeking traditional publishing for their book. I’ve done the careful cautions, but can’t save everyone from their dreams. They’ll sign the contracts, get badly burned, then ask around about how they can get out of those hideous contracts. Most times, they can’t. In a fraction of cases, they can, but only because the publisher already breached the contract.

I’m about to the point that I won’t open my mouth anymore. It’s sad.

Yesterday, one of my heroes among writers, Dean Wesley Smith, published a blog post that tells how he feels nowadays. Check it out here.

EDIT: I’ve fixed the link. I’m blaming the error on my fat fingers using the WordPress phone app.

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