((Just a little look into the traffic I sit in everyday. Sorry it's not a great pic, took it with my cell phone & there was nothing better to post.))
So I've been thinking really hard lately on what I want to do about my novel. I've been looking into finding myself a Literary Agent, but so far I have come up empty or disappointed with my findings. The suggestion of "why not self publish?" seems to be coming up more and more often lately and I feel myself slowly turning to the side of giving in to temptation. I had been told many times that if you self publish the chances of being picked up by an actual publisher are slim but I have heard great tales of those who have succeeded through self publishing and been picked up by a major publishing house. I think the young man who wrote Eragon would be one example, correct me if I am wrong. But in that comes my concerns.
1) What can I do to promote myself?
Social Networking sites. That is the key, or so I've been told, yet I see my twitter page and the sparse number of followers and wonder, gee is this really supposed to help? (though I do get helpful/interesting links from time to time) Then Facebook, no I still refuse to use facebook. Youtube? Unless I use copy written material, which now may or may not be legal depending on the law they presently want to pass online)can I really get my message across to people willing to listen? How do I get your attention? I have this blog, should I get another web page? Publish the first chapter of my novel to get more interest?
I could always go around to libraries and hand off free copies of my book with hopes of people picking them up and spreading the word, but that is a hope and there are books I have seen on the shelves of my local library I don't think have ever been touched. I don't want to see that as my own, not to mention that I'm horribly self conscious that my novel is not up to par, material/editing wise, with sponsored publications.
2)What should I chose as cover art?
I know. Never judge a book by its cover, but the cover still stands as a visual testament to what the story pertains to. Do I draw my own cover art, commission someone? And then what do I chose? Do I go for simplistic (i.e. A pair of watchful eyes; a pattern described on a semi-important object); A setting of some sort like a bland yet mentioned landscape, or something like my original cover design (partially seen in my banner); Just feature a character(s); Or a scene of action from the body of the story itself & if so which scene? You don't want to give away too much.
There are so many choices to choose from.
3) what if my editing isn't up to par?
Do I add an authors note apologising for any mistakes one may find grammatically or otherwise?
There is still so much to think about, concerns to be had and work to be done & I don't even know where to begin. But I hope with the new coming year that I will come to a decision, especially with so much being changed in the lit world (real books VS e-books & the massive closure of book stores) I feel my options dwindling.
But as I keep finding stories like this online: http://selfpublishingteam.com/guest-post-why-i-self-published-my-novel-after-saying-i-never-would/
Perhaps it is in my best interest to just self publish.
In other news:
The other day I was playing around with the web site Written, Kitten! http://writtenkitten.net/ which rewards you with a "kitten" (aka a picture of a kitty)each time you type/write 100 words on their page. Curious I began randomly typing and this is what I came up with. Its nonsense of course, but perhaps something interesting to read, and like all rough draft ideas I come up with, it begins as one big run on sentence.
(surprisingly the web site saves your work so each time you go back -so far- what you have written is still there, however without a kitten. I think I may have gotten up to four or five kittens)
~~~~~
"Well there we were, that's all it was, but in the end when we really think about it, it was just that, it was a whole lot more. Not just a little bit but a story that could have filled another two life times each. But we'll get back to that, the end, after I return you to the beginning. The beginning when things were so easy they were hard, before hard was so hard it was the next thing before death. The time where youth was innocent and age was wise. Where the air was clean, water ran and stomach were filled with food, delectable sweets and seasoned meats. But that was before the sky fell. Before the air turned to haze, the water ran dry and the food soured... Before the innocent had to wisen up before their years; the wise went before their time, and hope wavered that tomorrow would be another day. There are no roads left for us to take, no shelters left for us to make. We were left on our own with none to turn to but each other as we were found, battered, scared and lost without a future, without hope. If I think back, far back to where it all seems like a lost dream I can remember the past. I used to push back all the time as my tears warmed my face on cold, lonely, fearful nights but now I don't push, I don't think, I don't want to know because that past, that dream is what makes a nightmare of our present. Many call this "new beginning" a gift. This is our world and there was no other and though I know better, I believe it because the end of the world is no place for dreams, its just a place for renewal for those left behind, striving for life. We believed that. We believed it because there was nothing else, no sun to look up to, no grass or bug to look down upon. Not that this belief filled our stomachs or cured our pains, or gave us back what no longer was. It just gave us something to think about, something to fill our minds when it came to the silence, the vast and emotional emptiness left in the wake of the fall. Yet it wasn't the ideal that gave us strength to go on. No, it was the voices who chanted it, the determined faces of those who held it firm and true, the voices that silenced after the Second Fall, where our numbers decreased and new life came to those without it. This was life. Life for us, death for them. This was the world over and there was no turning back. Just sluggishly moving forward, side by side, weapon in hand and one goal in mind. Survive. -..."
Ps: A little numerical history- Make a wish.
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