Getting it right vs. getting it 'out there' - Mari Biella
Where we'd all like to see our books, eventually ... Image c/o Wikimedia Commons |
I can see the logic of this
viewpoint, too. After all, if a reader has read and enjoyed one of your books, then
they’ll be altogether more inclined to pick up another. However, I’d add a
small caveat: this is only likely to work if the books in question are any
good.
Over the past few years I've
read a lot of self-published books. Many of them, of course, have been wonderful: well-thought-out, well-written, ambitious in scope and beautifully executed. I've often been tempted to seek
out more from the authors of those books. They represent all that is best about self-publishing: the strong, interesting, brilliant voices that, for whatever reason, have either been bypassed or abandoned by the traditional industry.
However, a handful of those books have been stinkers: poorly-written, unedited, badly-formatted, riddled with typos and grammatical errors, and sometimes literally nonsensical. Frustratingly, I could sometimes see the germ of a good story beneath all of that mess: a story that, if it were honed and sculpted, could have been very good indeed. But a good story, while a significant advantage, is not all that it takes; a lot comes down to how that story is told. Needless to say, I won’t be in a hurry to pick up any more books by the second group of authors, regardless of how much they've published.
I should stress at this point that I don’t expect perfection in a self-published book. No self-publisher has the resources of a major publishing house. I don’t object to the odd typo or mistake. I do, however, prefer books that are at least reasonably well-written. Above all, I like to feel that the author has given his or her all to the book, and has taken the time to get it right – even if, in the process, that all-important momentum was slowed down a bit.
This is not just a hypothetical issue for me. I currently have a novel sitting on my hard drive. I've been working on it, on and off, for about five years. It's been through numerous drafts, and has been polished to a reasonable degree. It currently runs to about 106,000 words, more or less, which makes it a veritable doorstop by my standards. There’s much about it that I like, too: I think that it’s an interesting story with an engaging protagonist. The standard of writing, I think, is reasonably good throughout. It’s not perfect, but I could, theoretically, publish it tomorrow.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ the momentum-is-everything crowd would no doubt be shouting by now. ‘Get on with it! Get it out there! Build your bookshelf!’
However, a handful of those books have been stinkers: poorly-written, unedited, badly-formatted, riddled with typos and grammatical errors, and sometimes literally nonsensical. Frustratingly, I could sometimes see the germ of a good story beneath all of that mess: a story that, if it were honed and sculpted, could have been very good indeed. But a good story, while a significant advantage, is not all that it takes; a lot comes down to how that story is told. Needless to say, I won’t be in a hurry to pick up any more books by the second group of authors, regardless of how much they've published.
Books, books, and more books... Image c/o Wikimedia Commons |
I should stress at this point that I don’t expect perfection in a self-published book. No self-publisher has the resources of a major publishing house. I don’t object to the odd typo or mistake. I do, however, prefer books that are at least reasonably well-written. Above all, I like to feel that the author has given his or her all to the book, and has taken the time to get it right – even if, in the process, that all-important momentum was slowed down a bit.
This is not just a hypothetical issue for me. I currently have a novel sitting on my hard drive. I've been working on it, on and off, for about five years. It's been through numerous drafts, and has been polished to a reasonable degree. It currently runs to about 106,000 words, more or less, which makes it a veritable doorstop by my standards. There’s much about it that I like, too: I think that it’s an interesting story with an engaging protagonist. The standard of writing, I think, is reasonably good throughout. It’s not perfect, but I could, theoretically, publish it tomorrow.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ the momentum-is-everything crowd would no doubt be shouting by now. ‘Get on with it! Get it out there! Build your bookshelf!’
And, in a way, I’d like to
do just that. I like the feeling of satisfaction that comes with knowing that
something is finished. I like the curious feeling of resignation and relief
that follows publication. I’d certainly like to build an impressive bookshelf.
And yet . . .
There’s something about
this book that isn't quite right. Infuriatingly, I’m not absolutely sure what exactly is wrong with it, which makes
fixing it an extraordinarily laboured task. Something about it just isn't
entirely convincing. The plot creaks a bit in places; one plot point in
particular really doesn't make a great deal of sense, but for the life of me I
can’t think how to change it. If I can see these flaws, I’m pretty sure that
readers wouldn't be blind to them; and my strong feeling is that readers deserve
better than that. I can’t promise them that they’ll enjoy my book, obviously, but
I can have the satisfaction of knowing that I've given it my all and made
it the best book I possibly could.
In short, I want to publish this book, but I won’t.
Not yet, and possibly not ever. Not until, or unless, I can be sure that it
represents my best effort.
The freedom offered by
self-publishing – the freedom to publish what you want when you want – is intoxicating,
but I'm always wary of letting it go to my head. That wonderful
freedom, after all, comes at a cost. The buck stops with me. There’s no one
else to blame. If my book is bad, or not as good as it could be, that’s my
responsibility, and mine alone. One of the merits of
the traditional publishing model, perhaps, is that a book has to be vetted by objective,
if not infallible, judges before it sees the light of day. In self-publishing,
that’s just another task that is devolved to the individual author-publisher,
and it can be the hardest task of all. Seeing your book in an objective light is hard, and perhaps impossible - but we have to try, don't we?
I made this one as good as I could. Even if it took a while. |
Comments
I suppose some would say that the solution to the problem you describe is to get the opinion of a beta reader but that's never worked for me. They're invaluable for 'technical' advice and illuminating blind spots, but the essence of a work (especially of the doorstop variety you describe) is intensely personal and the feeling of 'rightness' comes from something other than smoothing out a narrative arc, softening or strengthening a character and so on.
One thing's certain, your approach will make it highly likely that if people read one of your books they'll want to read more.
'Better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to speak out and remove all doubt.'
Jenny – I’m afraid I’m absolutely clueless about marketing! I can see the advantages of both courses of action, but I wouldn’t like to come down firmly on either side.
Bill & Catherine – I have slightly mixed feelings about beta readers too. However, I have found on one or two occasions that they’ve given me a perspective that I wouldn’t otherwise have had, and have helped to make the final story much stronger than it would otherwise have been. I think I really do need a good editor who’ll know what I’m trying to achieve and can help me to achieve it. Finding such a person is difficult!
Valerie – I agree. Sometimes you can tinker with a book just that little bit too much...
Wendy – Thank you. I agree entirely; it really is our duty.
Nick – Just as the Romans employed slaves to remind them that they were mortal, so I sometimes think I need someone to remind me of this particular adage every time I’m about to say or write anything. :-)