The Method To my Madness.

So I keep talking about The. Book. and thought I should do some splainin.

After a lot of going back and forth, arguing with myself and reading all of the dire reasons for not doing it I decided to self publish and possibly (at least according to some authors) ruin my future as an author and do it.

I made a list of good reasons for doing it DIY style and it boils down to a few key issues.

The first reason I decided to DIY this thing is because my interest in mainstream publishing has waned to almost nothing. Yes, sometimes I do still fantasize about having some runaway best seller with Random House or something but the fact is, I’m just not into it.

I don’t want (particularly) this book to be watered down. In these essays I say fuck a lot, I talk about unsuccessful youthful attempts at fisting, I talk about being a fat bitch, I talk a lot about not giving a fuck and after a lot of research the kinds of publishing houses that even take unsolicited manuscripts from unknown authors is a short ass list. So here we are.

The second part of my disinterest in mainstream publishing or trying to get this book out in a traditional manner is that well I’m not famous. I’m not a famous blogger, I’m not catchy, I’m not trendy, hell even when I got shitloads of traffic from Shapely Prose back in the day, I’m just not that sort of blogger. I never thought of or tried to get a blogger publishing deal.

Also a smaller part of my reasoning happened to be a long study of book covers by women. I kept having these awful visions of some Nice White lady on the cover of my books and I can’t even stomach the idea. I would feel violated and stolen from.

Next reason is that it has taken me a long time to work up the nerve to really commit to this.

So I did a lot of research. I examined my options and looked at the mistakes some other self published authors have made. I decided to enlist the help of a very talented friend of mine to edit my work because she’s not only a very talented author herself but I feel like she gets me and wouldn’t mangle my words or make them safe.

And here we are.

I’ve gotten a lot of fantastic support from people. People have donated and offered a plethora of different flavors of help. I’m about 100$ shy of the amount I need to raise. I have a plan. I designed my cover. (Hint: the cover is going to be very reminiscent of my favorite poetry books from City Lights), I have some folks interested in reviewing it when I’m done. I’m pretty sure that the people who need to read it, who want to read it will get it.

I feel good and solid. Not really grounded because fuck the ground I want to fly.

There you have the method behind the madness. Here is a tidbit from the essay about my love of Courtney Love:

I love her because she is often a mess. She’s screaming at people, yammering about things on twitter, throwing things, talking about image and how she is perceived and I love those things. I love the fact that she was one of the first women I identified in my deep crazy core.

Here is my chipin thing:

Tomorrow I have more things for y’all to read. Also I heard over the weekend that I will have a short piece of horror (experimental) in Deaths Head Grin later this summer.

Thanks for reading.

Wrung out.

Recently I wrote a tiny story about and narrated by a dog.

I’m working on a story now with a rather strange man and woman. It’s kind of a love story maybe.

All this in addition to trying to finish The. Book.

I thought that putting together this essay project would be as easy as blogging since that is my primary audience. Fucking A Odin Take the Fucking Wheel I was dead ass wrong.

I am not quite done with new original essays and I feel wrung out in a painful yet pleasing way. Some of the new essays are kind of gut wrenching to read and write.

If I ever do this again on any kind of larger scale I’m going to have to work differently. I would have to take fewer hours at work or something because working the day job and getting this done isn’t working out in an optimal fashion.

It hurts but it feels good.

I’ve also learned that fundraising is just not my forte. I try but I feel weird and creepy about it. I don’t want to bother people who will most likely not buy my book.

Growth hurts, change hurts. Creating something I care about so much hurts like a bitch.

All this fear and pain is exhilarating. I like this far better than when I tried writing groups. I have learned so much in this process.

Yesterday I finished two essays and today I’m doing more fiction. I can’t dig so hard at myself today, I feel too raw as it is. Frayed nerves and lingering rage from an earlier subtle racism flavored incident on the bus. So is the life of a Black girl in Seattle sometimes.

One little confession. Sometimes I wish I had more lines on my face. I wish my skin reflected my years of drugging and not taking care of it or my smoking. I think if I didn’t look so young and sweet faced people wouldn’t be so apt to say stupid fucking things to me.

That’s all. I have to get back to work.

There is to be a book.

I don’t think I’ve talked about it that much here.

I announced on my personal blog that after prodding, some gentle suggestions from long time readers etc that I’m going to put together a tiny book of essays.

I find the prospect daunting. However the goal is mostly to say some things that might help people and to have them available to them anytime.

Don’t ask.

Being that I’ve lost my faith in most semi mainstream publishers and I understand the industry enough to realize that for this project self publishing is the way to go.

The parts I’m anxious about are mainly the promotions.

A trusted and beloved (not to mention really talented) friend will edit it for me so I don’t have to worry about that. The essays themselves are thus far not hard to get out. I have a good set of ideas that I need to whittle down into the things I want to hit hard.

Maybe at the root of this is the terrible desire to show myself that this is something I can do and it will be a good thing to do. I don’t know.

I started my chip in account and someone donated. I want to raise about 250$ to pay my editor and perhaps pay for a bell or whistle when published.

I’m really excited about this. Excited and scared shitless that it will be awful.