Celebrating Independent Authors
I’m from India, and mostly proud of it. Except when it comes to writing.
What’s my ethnicity got to do with my writing life? Plenty, as you’ll discover.
The unpublished manuscript of my debut novel, Tell A Thousand Lies, was shortlisted for the Tibor Jones South Asia award. Independent of this, I was offered a publishing contract by one of India’s biggest publishing houses (they have fantastic distribution within India). Continue reading “On Being a Writer in India by Rasana Atreya”
The other day I received an e-mail from an author friend. The e-mail included a link to an article about an indie author who had written a book so bad that it had displaced all other claimants to the crown. The article cited some excerpts from the book, and I must agree the writing, grammar, spelling, and punctuation were all equally execrable. The author of the article was having a great deal of Simon Cowell – type fun with this. He righteously dripped with sarcasm and condescension. This book is a prime example of the kind of writing that causes such sturm und drang in the indie author community. None of us wish to be even loosely associated with this type of “author.” The thought that some might paint all indies in the same light as this fellow induces a collective cringe throughout the indie community. The writer of the article then went on to quote some of the reviews of the book. Continue reading “Forrest Gump vs Lieutenant Dan”
Like most of us, I write out of a compulsion that shares many of its qualities with mental illness. Not only voices, but entire imaginary lives being led inside the confines of my head. Horrible wracking self-doubt. Insomnia. Substance abuse. Inappropriate outbursts. Depression always waiting around the next corner, its collar turned up, lighting a cigarette… hunched and grinning.
For an activity that is predicated on communication, writing is pitifully lonely, sometimes.
You wrestle with an idea, you get some early words on the page, you can’t stop thinking about it for days, possibly weeks, until maybe it begins to take some kind of shape. You hone it, you tease it, you poke at it, you beat the living crap out of it. It beats you back. Hurts you. You live and breathe it. Then one day, it’s ready. The “market” is ready. All of a sudden, you are forced into the harsh daylight of commerce and consumerism, and you have to be able to handle that, too. Or your baby will be stillborn. Continue reading “A-Team to X-Men”
“Publishers are just middlemen. That’s all. If artists could remember that more often, they’d save themselves a lot of aggravation. ” – Hugh Macleod, How To Be Creative
Ah, the lure of the publisher, the allure of the printed book sitting there in your hands, beckoning to you. Isn’t that the stuff of every author’s dreams? An e-book is great but don’t we all long to hold a book in our hands with our name below the title? I know I did. There’s also the sense of security and the idea that maybe we won’t have to work quite as hard, that they’ll pick up some of the load of marketing. Continue reading “Publishers – Writer Beware”