I am so fortunate to have some "regulars" who frequent my blog. You are all so intelligent and I learn every time you comment on everything from politics to religion to writing.

Conscious At Last commented on my most recent post about literary agents. He/She (I will call her she for our purposes here) asked if anyone  had experience with independent publishers.

Please weigh in if you do. I'd like to read what you have to say as well.

As most of you know, I am a proud indie author of an e-book that I launched on Amazon Kindle. I am part of what they call KDP Select which means, among other things, that my book can be borrowed for free in the Kindle Direct Publishing Lending Library. I am thinking of exploring the option of printing my book either through the Amazon owned Create Space, or perhaps through Lightening Source.  

If you read this, please put CAL's question out to the universe and ask writers to share their wisdom with us.

And, I must emphasize how much I have enjoyed this blog, Passive Voice. Daily he has articles and links to other writers' blog posts on the ins-and-outs of the publishing world. I've linked here to one good article to start with. But I recommend getting on his daily email list.

I received an interesting comment on my latest blog post about Her Largeness, the uber agent who lured me in, had me revise my novel to her specifications for 8 months, then tossed me aside at 4:55pm on a Friday night with the phrase:  You didn’t rise to the top of the pack.

Nathan Bransford, a former (note former) literary agent in San Francisco expressed empathy at my “rejection” but also took umbrage at my “anger.” He intimated that I had misplaced it at the well-meaning but over worked good guys in the traditional publishing model. And he suggested that I don’t take it personally.
Okay. Where to start?

First of all, Nathan, I am old enough to be your mother. I worked at the top of one of the toughest industries on the planet for more than 25 years. I don’t suffer sanctimonious tripe or the fools that spout it easily. The literary landscape is littered with charlatans, poseurs, patronizing putzes, and frauds. Neither I nor my readers need advice on our emotions or where to posit them.

For reading comprehension purposes let me repeat that the agent, who by the way eats people like you for breakfast, did not reject me. She used me for eight months while pumping air into her life raft. Her actions were unconscionable and unprofessional. She earned that 75% drop in income. I’m actually amazed to see her still spout her drivel on Twitter.

For the record, I queried fewer than a dozen agents about my novel before I turned 50 and took my life into my own hands. Some of those ten agents and I became friends and have stayed friends. I have no issue with someone not wanting to represent (the very fun five star) Finding Clarity: A Mom, A Dwarf and a Posh Private School in the People's Republic of Berkeley. It’s their call and I respect it.

No what I’m talking about is…well, now you’ve gone and done it. You shook the tree and now my stories have simply got to tumble out like rotted coconuts that I'd long forgotten.

I’ll start with you. 

Here’s what I remember about your days as a literary agent: you wrote a kick-ass blog. You sounded incredibly important and impressed a lot of people. In fact you wrote a lot every day. I could not for the life of me figure out how you managed to fight for your clients and give them 11%, excuse me, 110% every day when you were blogging up a storm and advising the rest of the world who then gave you more clicks and amplified your Google Analytics when you yourself were looking for a book deal. But being as young as you are, I figured you were far better than I could ever be at multi-tasking.

Still, wide-eyed sucker that I was, I dove in with the rest of your fans and read your FAQs on how to approach you for management. Your requirements and specifications were so, well, tight, that I was almost afraid to attempt to pen the correct query letter to you. But I screwed up my courage and wrote one. I followed your format to a T. You might not like my book, fair enough, but you’d likely read my query and not reject it like you said you would just because it wasn’t written to your precise, precious, and pretentious specifications.

But I know you don’t remember me. Do you know why? You don’t remember me because minutes - no exaggeration - fewer than four minutes after I sent my query, I received an email back rejecting my work. I can still see the time stamp on the internal info of those emails. There was quite literally zero chance that my synopsis and first chapter had been read by you. My query flew back to me like a mailer daemon, so swift that no person could have possibly interacted with it. No human eye would have been capable of perusing even the first graf, let alone the perfect structure and the voluminous material included within, written to satisfy your demands.

You didn’t reject me: your software rejected my incoming. (Or maybe you did, without reading a word, though what were the odds of you sitting at your desk at that moment?) And probably many, many more like mine. (That email is confidential, by the way, because I included material that I might use for a future book.)

Not long after the sting of your righteous rejection had faded, I read that you were getting out of the business. Your life raft was by then plumped up, or rather, you had a deal for your own book (odd coincidence.) You were leaving behind your clients who had impressed you with their queries, and who had a book you felt 10% about. No, I mean 110%, or something.

Honestly, if I had been one of your clients, I would really have wondered how the heck you found the time to fight for me and to blog so damn much. But I might also not have understood that you weren’t really culling through all those pesky queries, were you?

Look, let me say this again because you clearly didn’t understand the first time:  Any legitimate agent who rejected me, my work, my book, however you want to phrase it, had every right to. I have maintained friendships with some of those who did. I respect their decisions and value their expertise. Who knows, my book might bite/suck/be bad. And you might all be brilliant business people for dodging the bullet known as Finding Clarity.

But enough with the “we care so much and are so busy” meme - or at least enough of that from the agents who care enough about their clients and are good enough at their jobs to still be in business.

Writers don’t always take it personally. We simply see through the charade of so many who hung out a shingle without the slightest idea how to be an actual business person. (Cue the bad review to appear in 3, 2, 1....)

I feel sort of feisty about that because it reminds me too much of another Bay Area agent who attended the San Francisco Writers Conference last year. She sat on the stage, big as life, bold as ever, her eyelids at half mast out of sheer boredom, telling a ball room packed with sycophantic writers what she was looking for in them and their book. Bored Agent then took her place in a smaller ballroom during the speed dating sessions. She allowed people to line up and nervously pitch to her, using the three minutes they had paid big money for to try and impress her enough to like them and possibly entertain their project.

But guess what? Another agent whom I like immensely, even though she rejected Finding Clarity, and who was extricating herself from the business (we still hug each other every time we meet) leaned in to me for the kill:  “She’s no longer in business,” she whispered of the gal on the stage dictating her terms to the masses. “The office is closing next week. Her stuff is already moved out.”  Wonder how that 111% effort worked out for her.  

This is precisely why I admire Passive Guy and his blog so much. He's calling out the frauds, one at a time.

More agent stories to come! Thanks for prompting me Nathan! How can anyone be angry at that?

I said I would write a bit about my experiences with literary agents. Here is the first one that is worth noting:

A few years ago a friend who is in the publishing industry allowed me to use her name in the subject line of a query email to one of the largest agents in the land. I don’t mean to say that this woman agent is fat, just that her agency employed other agents and that her reputation is larger than life. She is/was famous, infamous, legendary, notorious, wildly successful, and a mentor to many agents who followed in her footsteps.

The agency loved my pitch and wanted a few pages of Finding Clarity. I was thrilled. What followed was the typical dance:  they wanted a few chapters, then 100 pages, and evidence of my “platform” including many of my New York Times articles.

When the agency then asked for the synopsis of my next Clari Drake novel, my cup runneth’ed over. I worked hard studying the style of writing required for synopses. I provided the agent with one, followed by the first 100 pages of this second WIP (work in progress.) My writer friends were as excited as I was. This agent was, after all, all powerful.

Then one day she asked me for a revision of Finding Clarity. She had read the entire thing, and loved it, but wanted a few scenes moved up. She didn’t like a certain chapter and wanted it cut out, which meant finessing other plot points. Could I do these two things? Why certainly, anything to get representation from Her Largeness.

I cut 30,000 words out of my manuscript and turned the work around in two weeks. I cleared by calendar and went off line in order to accomplish this.

She confirmed that she got my revision. Then the love stopped.

Months went by and my emails were returned with breathless news of all the conferences Large Agent was busy attending. Why, I was sitting right here, writing away in Berkeley! Why wasn’t she ready to sign me?

Then one day I turned to my husband while we were knee deep in the ocean on a family vacation and I said, “She’s blowing me off, isn’t she?”

“Ah, yup,” he replied. “’Fraid so.”

My friend who allowed me to use her name was furious. A phone call was in order. I should have had a signed contract much earlier in this negotiation. But the agent had stopped responding to my attempts to reach her.

Then one day I got an email. It was 4:55pm on a Friday, that magical time for a “clearing out an inbox” email. She said, and I quote, that I “did not rise to the top of the pack.”  The agent who had asked for more and more and more from me, revisions, sections of the new book, proof of my excellent work as a New York Times reporter, decided, after EIGHT months, that I was little more than a canine metaphor.

Then she ended with this: “But if no one else wants you, let me know.”

I didn’t say Fuck You, which would have showed more class than she deserved. Instead, with my dyed-in-the-wool New England sensibilities and manners, I wrote back and thanked her for her time and attention over the past EIGHT months. I then had the temerity to ask for her evaluation or opinion of the revision that I knocked out for her! She never even gave me the courtesy of a reply.

Fast forward a year. A writer friend met the agent in a bar during a conference. The agent nervously confided that her income had dropped by 75% in the past year. Yes, she was taking home one one-fourth of what she previously had.

Well, anyone who takes EIGHT months to make a decision, anyone who is that ineffective, rude and sloppy deserves to make a quarter of their income. I laughed out loud when I heard that. In the time Large Agent spent jerking me around, she might have sold my book to a publisher.

Note to her: Finding Clarity has done very well on Amazon. I’ve had thousands upon thousands of books downloaded. I’ve even reached #16 in comic fiction and women sleuths at certain points. Her loss. 

Adapt or die. That’s what’s going on in the publishing world and that’s precisely what I am doing. I am in charge of my destiny, no matter how indie or low-key it might be.

I don’t think about this agent or her actions more than maybe once a year, and that is only when prompted. She might well have made the right choice about me. She might indeed have known what she was doing. But sometimes it’s all in the swing, rather in whether or not you hit the ball. Her mode of doing business was not mine. And it never will be.

I understand now that Famous Agent actually did me a huge favor, but I can’t resist this final, churlish and childish retort:  don’t let the dog bite you in the butt on your way out of business. Top of the pack indeed.

Long ago on this blog someone asked my why I made the choice to self-publish Finding Clarity. I have several “agent” stories that I’d like to share in due course. But I want to begin with the most recent anecdote about bookstores.

I am in the throes of exploring how to publish my novel in paperback. It seems my best options are Create Space through Amazon, and Lightening Source, which distributes through Ingram, a book distributor to stores and libraries.

In the past few weeks, I’ve placed calls to local book stores to suss out whether or not they would carry a book published through Amazon, or if they would only take a book that could be distributed through Ingram.

The first phone call was pretty straightforward:  we won’t carry an Amazon book. I understand completely, I said. Furthermore, we’ll only carry your book if we like it. “It takes place in Berkeley and has garnered great reviews,” I said. But this monosyllabic twenty-something didn’t care. She grunted and hung up. That was a fairly edgy bookstore with a not terribly friendly staff, but large enough to carry many books from all genres. My book cover would look great in their window. But they didn’t care enough to even ask me the title, let alone the topic.

My second call was to a tonier store in a wealthy neighborhood that is featured in Finding Clarity. A woman of a certain age answered the phone. My question was fairly simple but she clicked me on hold without even a word, such as “just a moment while I find out for you.” I truly thought she had to burp or someone had bumped into her. She got on the phone again and dismissed my question with an answer that had nothing to do with what I asked.

I tried three, count ‘em, three more times to ask the question “I have an e-book that I’m going to put into print; what is the best way to publish so that you can carry it?” Each time she clicked me on hold unceremoniously, and came back with a partial answer that did not relate to my question. Truly, she had no concept of what I was asking. I finally laughed and said she clearly didn’t understand me… was there someone else there I might talk to?

The owner came on the phone. I posed my question carefully. She responded that Amazon won’t let her sell e-books (I’m not sure I understand the logistics of a book store selling electronic books) and so no, she would not carry a book that I published by them. I said I could understand that. “What about if I do it through another source that can then distribute through Ingram?” I asked. She then said she’d have to consider it, but that she’d have to learn about the book and see if she liked it. She really only takes books from publishers.

Okay, fair enough. That’s her prerogative. But since publishers are going the way of the dodo bird and the creative world has decided that the Big Six do not have to control their future, I’m not sure that hitching my wagon ONLY to them is the brightest idea for a mom and pop store. Again her choice.

But what really fascinated was the fact that this woman never even asked me, then and there, what my book was about. She didn’t ask me the title or genre. Was it a book of aerial photos of the Bay? Did it include recipes, porn, or children’s stories? She never asked, even when I mentioned that Finding Clarity had garnered great reviews on Amazon. Mere mention that it took place in Berkeley and would be of interest to her clientele did not elicit any response.

And that, dear readers, is part of the rub here. It used to be called “coming over the transom.” Local writer makes good by capturing the spirit of our silly city in her hilarious debut novel which by all accounts should have come through a big NYC publishing house, but didn’t, and is now published independently and we are so pleased to have her here tonight to sell more copies that we can make money off of and draw in more customers....”

But what I got instead was one woman who was incapable of politesse on the phone or of comprehending a simple question. And then the recalcitrant owner of a store who made no effort to explore the topic to see if it even remotely would benefit her, let alone enlighten or delight her readers.

Incurious, bitter, and phlegmatic store-keepers are only one reason why the publishing game has changed, and not in their favor. And this is just the beginning of my stories of why I went the indie author route. More to come.

Mr. Capulet:  Hey Romeo, how you doin’?

Romeo:  Fine sir. And you?

Mr. Capulet:  I’m doin’ okay. You in a hurry? The Jets are in the third quarter.

Romeo:  Well, sir. Actually, I wondered if I could have a minute of your time.

Mr. Capulet:  Romeo, I always got time for you. You’re like a son to me. I known you since First Holy Communion when you were this tall (hand hovers above chips and dip bowl.)

Romeo:  Well, Sir. The thing is, I want to marry your daughter. If you’ll let me.

Mr. Capulet:  Let you! What, are you fucking kidding me? I’d love for you to marry my daughter!

Romeo:  Great, cause we’re really in love. And we’re neither of us seeing anybody else right now.

Mr. Capulet:  Hey listen, this is gonna make Juliet’s mother so friggin’ happy. And I’m gonna throw you kids the biggest wedding this side of the Hudson. I got a friend who runs a hall in North Jersey.

Romeo:  Great, cause we got lots of friends and cousins to invite.

Mr. Capulet:  And Juliet’s nanny. She’s been with us since the beginning.

Romeo:  Sure thing. Though I know my folks are gonna want to use our priest, Father Laurence.

Mr. Capulet: Not a problem! (rises from the sofa) Come ‘ere kiddo. (bear hug) I love you. And if you kids ever need anything, and I mean anything, you come to me. You got that?

Romeo:  Yes sir.

Mr. Capulet:  Now sit down here with me and have a beer. No caffeine for me. And I gave up cigarettes. But this one drink is my poison and I gotta have one every afternoon.

Romeo:  I’d love to. But I gotta get to the drug store before it closes. So, I’m gonna go to the bottom of the stairs and see if Juliet’s ready yet.  But sir, thank you again. I won’t let you down.

Mr. Capulet:  Hey, never was there a story I would like more, than this of my Juliet and her Romeo.  You make a beautiful couple. Take care kid. And make sure you have her home by dark.

Mark Coker, founder of SMASHWORDS the digital publishing and distribution platform that will no doubt be in my future, presented at the San Francisco Writer's Conference again this year. His company also provided the lanyards once more, serving as a metaphorical reminder that the real albatross around our necks might be the traditional publishing industry, rather than the do-it-ourselves spirit infecting so many writers I know. Coker shrugged off some serious jet lag and presented coherent thoughts on the state of the industry. Here they are in bullet points:

• in 2008, Smashwords published 140 titles. In 2009 that figure jumped to 6,000. Last year, the company released 28,500 ebooks into the ether. So far, in 2011, some 35,000 titles are available. 
• Ebooks now comprise 10% of the trade market.
• The tools of the publishing industry are now democratized (Tunisia was the analogy here.)
• The seeds of revolution come when people feel they can't participate in the system.
• Ebooks  represent our own, free, virtual printing press. Now the retailers want our book and that is a total game changer.
• Shelf space for ebooks is unlimited. It won't go out of print before you find your audience or hit your stride.
• YOU control your ebook, its price, its art.
• Traditional publishing means you get 7-10% of a book's earning.
• Epublishing means you keep 60-100% of the list price.
• You can therefore offer it as a lower cost and keep a higher percent per copy.
• Authors are now asking themselves:  What can a traditional publisher do for me that I can't do myself?
• Whereas it used to be that authors were asking themselves if it would hurt them to not work with a traditional publisher
• He cited authors who offered series starters for free, thereby enticing readers to buy their next books.
• Before the decade is out, ebboks will outsell print. By 2020, publishers will look like software companies. 
• Word of mouth will become "word of mouse."

While this fabulous woman writer with grown children and an ancient dog may not think of her as a vixen, I certainly know that she has lured me into her lair with an intriguing new Vlog! 

See if you can take the same tour I did of her writing room - shove off Ms. Wolff. I love how it looks, I love how she sounds, and I know how much I love Suzanne's writing on the Good Men Project and on Scribd where she has shown us some love with part of her novel:  Don't Ya Know:

http://www.scribd.com/srosenwasserweeblylink_new_window