July 7, 2009

ROLAND'S RULES OF FOUR - A WINNER'S GUIDE TO SUCCESSFUL SELF-PUBLISHING

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The following series of Campfire Culture blogs will share how one aspiring writer who failed repeatedly to breach the castle walls of New York's publishing's monopoly succeeded in profitably self-publishing twelve (12) previous books--and heads for lucky number thirteen. Though there may be other strategies to self-publishing success, I can share only the formula that worked for me.

To begin, let's assume the following premises to be true:

1. Major Publishers are terrified by the convulsions wrought through technological change (i.e. DESKTOP PUBLISHING and INTERNET DISTRIBUTION); so much so their comfortable "old model" monopoly that dictated what America reads (in consort with iron-fisted control of "book trade" distribution) is becoming effectively paralyzed.

2. Translated that means their paralysis severely limits opportunities for hordes of aspiring writers with fascinating stories to tell; writers who are piling up outside conventional publishing's mainlist castles.

3. As major chain bookstores more and more become mere showrooms for bestsellers and prize-winners backed by avalanches of promotional dollars from major publishers, readers interested in cultural sectors no longer served by the Gutenberg mafia must look elsewhere for their books.

4. With the coming juggernaut of unserved reader demand, supported by a vast pool of talented writers from publishing's hinterlands, what Gutenberger from publishing's mount Olympus dares defend a defenseless monopoly?

With those truths in place as our guiding premise I'll tell you that my partner (wife) and I, like Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, started tilting with the windmills of Random House and Simon & Schuster 15 years ago. Naively, we trusted the book distribution playing field to be level. (It wasn't.) We also trusted a never-flagging belief in our willingness to work harder and longer and make do with less, thus we tirelessly promoted our books via well over 100 booksignings per year during each October-through-Christmas sale season. We journeyed from the Atlantic seaboard to Pacific tidewater, Canada to the Rio Grande on our signing circuits, sleeping in our van, lugging books in and out of mall chainstores, libraries, and indie bookstores.

Despite all our efforts, we watched opportunities wither as the big bookselling chains devoted more and more prime sale space (end caps, store front displays, etc.) to titles with huge promotional dollars behind them (read major publishers). A word here and a word there and we gradually came to understand what was really happening: that major publishers were actually buying prime display space in the large chain stores via huge discounts for large orders. Large orders, of course, meant those stores had to market those books aggressively through prime shelf placement and co-op advertising with the publisher, a tactic far beyond our limited means.

Still, our willingness to work and a never-flagging belief in ourselves carried us through those decade-ago days of a gradually tightening noose from the monopolistic triad of major book publishers, major book reviewers, and major booksellers. I could go on and on about how small publishers, university presses, and self-publishers were gradually squeezed out of the old conventional publishing sales model. I could go on and on about how tilted the playing field actually became in order to benefit the cozy cadre of Mount Olympus publishers. But I'd be repeating what you've already learned.

As the superstore booksellers squeezed small publishers out in order to give their devoted attention (see warehousing and shelf space) to the major booktrade players, Jane turned her lazer focus on schools and libraries. Actually, with 12 titles to sell, she did well. But the effort of calling on upwards of 20 libraries each day for six months at a time proved energy-draining and neither of us could turn our own biological clocks back to age 35.

Not to belabor the long and sordid history of Jane and Sancho tilting with windmills, we've endured a decade of tumult, observing, debating, cursing, and crying. But we survived as self-publishers. And if 150,000 books sold is a revealing measure of success, we've thrived. We did so by following our own creative formula: one I'm convinced will work today; perhaps even better at this end of the upheaval period than it did when we entered the fray. I call our formula the Rules of Four.

Our next post will actually get into those Rules. But here is a starter pack for you to ponder between posts:

* You must have a story of interest

* You must tell that story well

* You must package that story well

* You must believe in yourself

Before you leave today's post, be advised that each point listed above has its own Rules of Four and each of those Rules of Four may have additional Rules. By following those guidelines--those rules--we developed a dozen books that can proudly take their place on bookshelves alongside the best produced by Houghton, Mifflin or Little, Brown.

What's even more exciting, though, is my eagerness to pit our books against the Gutenberg mafia's best on the level playing field of desktop publishing and internet book distribution!

 

Review

If Stanley Gordon West never writes another enjoyable read, his book Blind Your Ponies earns him a small-press place in line for literature's Pearly Gates. The tale is about a basketball team from a tiny, dying Montana town who can only field six players (when they're all healthy) from its entire high school student body of 14. The book moves!

The author's characterization insists that you hug or comfort most patrons of the Blue Willow Cafe and spit in the eye of others. You'll hate the 12-man basketball teams from other, larger schools that also sport JV and freshman teams and still have to cut boys from their student bodies who want to play; hate their shiny new uniforms and the condescending way they look down on Willow Creek's faded and ill-fitting uniforms resurrected from rag heaps and second hand stores. But coaches and players from those larger schools learn to respect (and perhaps fear) Willow Creek's tenacity, stamina, and back-from-the-brink, never-say-quit-willingness to absorb both punishment and defeat and still come out "truckin' for their next game."

West's ingenious and appropriate use of metaphors reminds the reader of Ivan Doig. And talk about conflict--Wallace Stegner ain't even in it!

It's a coming of age tale of youth, and a coming to grips tale of their elders; of love and grit and terror and integrity. If prayers could help Willow Creek survive as a high school, a town, and a concept, all are assured of success from the opening page because a reader begins the book by praying for both people and place, remains on edge while fondling prayer beads through every game and every passion and every crisis--then winds up wondering at the end if prayers and guts will be enough.

Blind Your Ponies (the title is the only thing about the book I didn't like) is about a small town's basketball team, but the team and its journey is only metaphoric for carrying human conflict and passion through an unforgettable tale that may well provide critical insight influencing the way a reader considers his or her own life's journey.