There is a disdain for self published authors that is not found anywhere else in creative pursuits.
They call it vanity press. It is vain to write and publish your own book. Why? It’s not vain to create art, to make a CD, to dance, to make a video, a movie or anything else. The big guns seek out the amateur for the next big thing. This does not happen to self published book writers.
I encountered this at my job at a bookstore many years ago. When we ordered books, we received a separate pamphlet for self published books that we could order from. Automatically it was as if managers were presented with a big plate of pooh. Faces changed, noses wrinkled. Disgust.
My first boss was not like this. She gave self published authors a chance. God bless her. I am sure she helped many to be a commercial success. But she was one in a million.
Why are amateur writers, who publish their own books so hated?
It is true, our work is unpolished, we are not professionals. But I will tell you, that the published authors aren’t professionals either. The only difference is they have the benefit of seasoned editors to take their raw gems and make them diamonds. Professional writers do not have a greater gift than the rest of us, except they lucked out and got a publisher with great editors and who promoted them. I guarantee you, before that, their writing was no better than a self published author, and in many cases, worse. And how many books that are professionally published are still crap? Many.
I suspect it is the book publishers who created this wide spread horror of the self published author. Their book sales take away from their profits.
I am very happy publishing my own books, even if they aren’t great. I love doing it. I am just wondering why that is such a bad thing.
Have you ever noticed that when you are sick, it gets worse at night?
Have you noticed that most of your worrying is at night, and how outrageous it seems in the morning?
My Mother had a saying that I still hear in my head when I am having a bad night.
“Things will look better in the morning.”
Boy, that has got me through many a bad time.
I think one of the possibly many reasons companies don’t hire seniors is this.
They are wise.
They are wise to all the tricks and manipulations bosses try to pull to make their employees work longer and harder for less, and all manner of degrading and belittling mind games that reduce employees to begging slaves.
Senior employees are not there to climb the ladder, so they don’t play those games. They’ve been there and done that a hundred times.
I think bosses are more interested in their own power than the good of the company.
In my younger years I was a photographic pest. I took pictures of everything. I took my camera everywhere. And when I got a video camera, oh my, I went berserk!
My Mom and I went to a hotel on Christmas for dinner, it was quite the treat. My Mom loved it. What a nice break after so many years raising a family and slaving over Christmas dinner and dishes.
I filmed our entire Christmas affair, like it was a documentary. At the end of our meal, as we sat in the lobby waiting for our ride home, I set up the camera and interviewed my Mother, with the intent of sending that to my brother.
We were having a playful banter when this woman came over and wanted me to interview her. She asked me what news channel I was from and when this video would be aired. My Mom and I broke into gales of laughter and I tried to explain this was just a private thing. But the lady would not believe me! She thought my Mom must be some celebrity and that is why I was giving her an interview. This lady wanted in on it!
If our ride hadn’t of arrived, I would have interviewed her. It would have been a scream!
There was a place I could go when I was young, in a castle, by a fireplace in a rocking chair. At the Friendly Giant’s.
I was a terribly shy introverted girl living in an extroverted world. Still am in many ways. The Friendly Giant sheltered me. I was safe and understood there. A place parents and peers could not come to.
When I get scared, which is often, I remember this program, the infamous harp and recorder playing ‘Early One Morning’ and the Giant summoning me to “Look up. Look waaaay up.”
Bob Homme was the kindest, gentlest adult in the world. I hated when he closed up the drawbridge when we were gone.
I loved Jerome the giraffe. He was in no hurry for anything. And the Giant was taller than him!
The older I get, the more I miss my childhood, because my adulthood mostly sucked. And there was no Friendly Giant.