Independence Movement

I had an unpleasant experience last week, but I survived.

Seeking to find other outlets for my books, and encouraged by fellow indie authors whose books now grace the shelves of independent booksellers who support local authors, I approached an independent bookshop not ten minutes’ drive from my home.

It was settled within seconds of my approaching the proprietor—as soon as the word ‘Amazon’ left my lips. A dirty word, I was told. They don’t touch anything that’s had anything to do with that organisation. Their stock comes from one particular wholesaler and if I was part of that then they might consider me—but as things stood, no dice.

Well, yes, I had to concede. Many of us don’t have a lot of time for The ‘Zon, but if you’re in your sixties—like me—and don’t have maybe ten years to spend finding an agent who’s willing to take you, never mind a traditional publisher, then it’s a way to get your work out there. If I’d spent that long trying to get an agent for my first book I’d never have published the other five novels and four books of poetry that I now have to my name—and another couple on the way.

Oh. I was self-published too? Yes, I said, by now with a slight edge to my voice. As it was clear that my books were never going anywhere near the shelves of this particular establishment I could be frank—and managed to remain polite too. They didn’t think much of self-published authors there either. What a shame for them, I opined, as there are some very good self-published authors and books out there—and by the same token, some very bad ones released by traditional publishers, which I’ve had the displeasure of reading. Cringeworthy stories and badly edited—and I should know, I’ve worked as an editor.

At which point I left, with a flourish, I hope.

Those of you who’ve read You Know What You Did may recall that there’s a character who spends a considerable amount of time finding likely-looking self-published indies on Amazon, then reading and reviewing them on KU in order to give a helping hand to those authors—and that’s pretty much my position.
Of course, I’m one of what Amanda in the book calls ‘no-hopers’, but that’s okay, I can cope with it. What I can’t cope with is this blanket attitude that ‘self-published books are all bad books.’ It’s just not true, and I let the bookseller know my opinion.

So I repeat. There are bad self-published books, and I’ve read some of them—but I’ve also read some terrible books released by traditional publishers—presumably because they’re catering for a certain readership from whom they’ll make a lot of money. I won’t name those books, but suffice it to say that I was kicked out of the online ARC group of a traditional publisher because I gave honest, low-starred reviews to a couple of their books. They don’t want those sort of reviews, just high-starred ones, which is manipulation—yet it seems to be indie authors who get accused of that, via review swaps and so forth. Priceless, isn’t it?

By the same token, there are some very good books out there by the much-maligned self-published indies. If I hadn’t become one myself, and made contact with a whole bunch of others, just think what I’d have missed out on. The espionage romance of Amanda Sheridan, the gritty dystopian it-could-happen-tomorrow stories of Paul McMurrough, the come-through-adversity romances of Tracey Gerrard, the historical fiction of Marcia Clayton, the trials and tribulations of Onia Fox’s Jess, the brilliant Tristan Trilogy of Barbara Lennox—all to be devoured along with the Eclairs for Tea of multi-genre author Julia Blake.

There are so many more, and if I’ve missed you off the above list please forgive me. The point is that we’re a community, all giving a supportive and helping hand to each other. And I wouldn’t have missed that for all the paperbacks my non-supportive local bookshop won’t have on their shelves.

Their loss.

You Know What You Did
Laura Lyndhurst