A True Definition of 'Indie'?
When I was invited to repost this blog for a wider audience, it did not surprise me so much considering the links, comments, discussions, emails, and other blogs that coincided with the post. It seems my definition of 'indie' hit a nerve.
I thought I'd start this time by asking Wikipedia what 'indie' means.
A general paraphrasing of all the 'indie' terms gives us: 'indie' originated with independent record labels from the post-war period, who have a long history of signaling developments in popular music – Blues, Jazz, Rock n Roll, Punk, Rap and Grunge. They were all new forms once, and outside of the mainstream.
As is 'indie' design, which is supported by a growing number of 'indie' shoppers seeking niche and often handmade products as opposed to those mass-produced. And with 'indie' games there is a focus on innovation, and reliance on digital distribution. Being independent, developers do not have creative limitations and do not require publisher approval as mainstream developers do. Therefore 'indie' games are known for innovation, creativity, and artistic experimentation.
The National Literary Awards defines 'indie' literature "books published outside of mainstream publishing." Such are books rarely recognized and hard to pin down. And 'indie' films are distinguishable by their content and style and the way in which the filmmakers' personal artistic vision is realized. Generally, the marketing of 'indie' films is characterized by limited release designed to build word-of-mouth or to reach small specialty audiences.
There has always been more to the concept of 'indie' than DIY. The hordes of self-published authors who are literary icons today were never called independent and never 'indie'. They were self-published.
Anyway, I was struck by a blog from Dan Holloway about the need for bad books. I wholly agree with him that we need a whole lot more brilliant, bright, left of centre, genius books that absolutely don't conform. I am cheering all the way. I don't care if the punctuation and grammar are shitty. I don't care if the narrative structure is bizarre. I want to be moved. I want to read good bad books. I want to finish reading and say to everyone, "I read a great book today." I can survive a deluge of not so good for the sake of knowing one gem will be washed up.
What's going on with 'indie' fiction, then? Why aren't I seeing this sort of sparkle anymore?
[I'm not talking about formulaic genre, here. That's everywhere just as it is on the print shelves and that is good, it's FINE; it's tapping a market just as the big houses do. That sort of best-selling pulp will always be one avenue of income for prolific writers. I'll be a one man cheer squad for the basic novel. It has all the expected elements – my big blather – it meets reader expectation, so it sells. It is what it is, it conforms, it is not about breaking free or bending rules. And it's not 'indie'.]
Why this wash of cold grey porridge from those who believe they answer to a higher form of Art? Editors are a big 'no no' here in the ether, so we can't blame them. [Editors with the skill to nurture individual voices might just be real life angels, imho.]
When I discovered online writing, both ebooks and webfiction, I came with the preconception that this was where failures came to flog their wares. I thought if it wouldn't sell in the real world, they gave it away online. Except, I was wrong. I was as wrong as a big lump of 'completely misguided' in a bucket of 'totally confused'. What I found online was a community of writers who had made the deliberate, abiding, and successful choice to publish themselves online. There were thousands of magic free books, serials, and collections, and there were as many more available for sale.
Many of them were extraordinary!
'Indie' represented a conscious choice and philosophy. It was a choice – often when a genuine choice was available. It was a way to present an individual vision, an independent form of art. It was deliberate, with small groups and independent publishers supporting each other in the production and presentation of original fiction. I hoped that the outside world, the traditional world, would look at what people were doing in here and say – WOW! We can learn from this 'indie' thing.
That isn't going to happen.
What is happening is a flood of writers from the outside world are bringing in their traditional values and their dreams of traditional adoration. If they cannot get B&M editors to see their light shining from the neat double-spaced hardcopy manuscript on the desk in front of them, they put their work online and call themselves 'indie'.
What's the difference?
Many years ago I gave up on Writers' Groups. I found lovely, lovely, likeminded people who got together to share a common interest and help and encourage each other. Most groups fell apart after six months, but those that succeeded drew new members and the old members gained some kudos. Original members became the elders, the voice of wisdom, the judges, and the critics. Their publishing credits remained at four letters to the editor and two shorts stories with a flower motif published in the Gardeners' Monthly, but time gave them prestige. They put out a newsletter and added 'Editor' to their list of credentials; they ran competitions among their members and added Prizes to their CV.
Why? So that when they sent their next neat double-spaced hardcopy manuscripts to the publishers, they had a publishing history to embellish on their cover letter. A bit of 'spin' to help them pass through the first five gates on the way to having an editor actually read the written word itself. Then they began running 'How to' courses. "How I reached these dizzying heights of publishing glory, by Troy McClure". Writing 'Published Author' after your name does not make you an expert. I could even point you to teachers who have no publishing history and no expertise, just spin, spin, and more spin.
So what's wrong with any of that? Nothing. Go ahead and do it. Enjoy. It is how the system works.
But now I see that same Writers' Group crowd moving into the independent fiction world. Colonists bringing their dreams and their MO and imposing the false hierarchy that ends with a three book deal or bestseller status in the traditional world, as if it is ideal. Self-publishing is only seen as a way to gain the attention of a fictional editor who scans the World Wide Web looking for the next big thing. [Meanwhile they spam every webpage that does not explode with news of their yet-to-break bestseller.]
I saw a short story recently and I was delighted. It was a gem, just a little diamond, tiny and sparkling. It was put before the kind souls in a writers' group for consideration. I wept – Really! Tears! For someone I do not even know.
Why? Because the very well-meaning people in that writers' group shredded the story. They explained how to form 101 sentences. They suggested some improvements that would gain better marks in a creative writing 101 exercise. They did their very best to encourage the author to write as they themselves had learned to write, 101. They did it from the very best of hearts, and the kindest wishes. I always think of the paving on the road to Hell, though, I'm afraid. I don't know what happened to the story.
And that, in the end, is what is wrong with half of the independent fiction I've seen lately. They are written for the giant online slush pile in the hope of being discovered by the phantom editor, or they are shredded by the well-meaning support network. Anything like an original form of expression has been simplified to the mantra 101. Anyone using sentence structure for more than the transference of thoughts has their grammar and punctuation hammered flat to the mantra 101.
The 101 rules are out there, everywhere. I laughed yesterday reading 'The World Is Mine', by William Blake. "Show, don't tell, Mr Blake," I said. "Are you an expository imbecile?" That fool Herman Melville with his seventy-six word sentences, with three semicolons and eleven commas. Joyce! Where do I start with James Joyce? That blitherer Shakespeare, making up words! Can you believe it? They'd never pass 101, none of them, ever.
That is also, then, why I no longer use the word 'indie'. What is that quaint little nugget? Conceive, believe, and receive, is it? I think I inadvertently caused a shift in reality, superpowerful as I am, by believing that the world of independent fiction was a bit like the Vanity Press of ten years ago only cheaper. I was wrong then, but it seems to me to be changing before my very eyes. The mess I once conceived has begun to take shape, and now they call it 'indie'.
In time, I suppose, the pendulum will swing as it always does and passion for the fashion of being 'indie' will pass as reality sets in. The mainstream establishment will wait while the multitudes and the market forces do their work for them. Bookbloggers, who were once the mainstay of independent marketing will turn more to mainstream ebooks to raise the status of their own sites. Reviewers will continue to berate any work which does not fit the bestselling trend du jour. Independent booksellers will keep going broke because there are more people are trying to sell their books than there are trying to buy. Dymocks et al will sell vanity packages and offer shelf space to the lucky few 'indies' who win their praise. The lowest common denominator will reign supreme and the mainstream will be reinstated.
And I hope, in the end, the really brilliant, the exceptional, who came here first and who keep chipping away stoically, will still be here somewhere when it all blows over. They will have to come up with a new name, though, this one's a bit grubby.
