Literary Destiny and the Beast
by Nancy R. Koerner
(Naples, FL, USA)
Belize Survivor
Despite an early break with a publishing house in 1996, legal complications and a car accident left me with a closed-head injury and utterly different priorities. The months and years passed before life began to normalize, and subsequent efforts to locate another publisher were unsuccessful. At that point, in spite of a previously unshakable belief in my literary destiny, I began to have doubts. Or perhaps subliminal resistance was involved, given the emotionally-charged content of my book. But, for whatever reason, I allowed the project to slip into oblivion for nearly a decade.
A long-lost cousin insisted I revisit the effort. The internet had leveled the playing field. Self-publishing was now a viable option. He told me John Grisham had self-published his first novel, and although this was later proven inaccurate, at the time the urban legend served up enough mouth-watering self-delusion to make me consider this as a feasible alternative. It would mean no more prostrate supplications before His Royal Agentness. Gone would be the query letters, book proposals, and constant rejection of haughty publishers who couldn’t even take the time to look down their noses in disdain. It was American Idol for writers, yes? Anyone could have a chance? Ah, but therein lies the rub. How many contestants are eliminated before the true stars are justly glorified? Over the past year or so, I have read perhaps a dozen or more self-published books by authors who strive to be worthy of the title “writer,” as though a half-baked, poorly thought-out amalgam of loose threads, third-grade punctuation, mistranslated exposition, jumbled time-lines, and chaotic emotion constitutes some kind of literary genius. In an honest assessment, some have shown embryonic talent but no finesse; others have been hideous compilations of pure crap. Two covers with typed white pages stuck between them does-not-a-writer-make. No wonder we are so rarely taken seriously. Nevertheless, I maintained the belief my book could be one of those rising stars. So I did my research, selected Lulu, created a login, and followed the steps.
Writing is one thing, but formatting the manuscript certainly had its challenges, at least for me. OK, OK, it was a nightmare. But no fault of anyone else’s. I’m just not that good with headers and footers, page numbers, and all that sequencing. However, once converted to a PDF, the upload process was painless. I created my own appropriately-conceptual cover art, uploaded it as a .png file, and calculated the spine width. There were other handy calculators on Lulu’s website as well, one for determining book cost by page count, and one to assist in the pricing equation – that all important span between cost through to retail. If you are not well-grounded in sales, and no one has ever explained the premise, get some help. Accurate price positioning is absolutely critical. Commercially, it will make or break your book-selling enterprise. Overall, Lulu’s system was easy, effective, and free, with excellent chat and email support.
Next, I got my bar code, purchased a distribution package, formed my own publishing company, incorporated as an LLC, set up a bank account, established a website, added PayPal to the “buy” page, designed promotional materials and a Power Point presentation, and began the long highly-dedicated process of contacting domestic violence organizations, shelters, book clubs, women’s groups, and reading festivals, as well as local schools and universities to investigate selling and speaking venues. Oh yeah, and I ordered some books.
Of course, much due-diligence had preceded this phase. Never satisfied with my own writing, I had not only endured my own masochistic flagellation, but had paid a professional company to scrupulously hard-edit my draft manuscript and add the salt of their scathing remarks to my already festering wounds. It is a great irony to pay someone to tell you the things you least want to hear. No one wants to believe that their faultless and near-sacred love child looks, and smells, like a monkey. I took their advice and tightened the story line. Then I tightened it again. And again. And again. In the end, I don’t know how many “final” versions there were – maybe eighteen or nineteen. I was intent on making every page shine with color and purpose, to vibrate and breathe like a living thing. I disciplined myself to write only that which develops the character or moves the story forward. No rabbit trails. No leaving in extra stuff because I thought it was cool. And no throwing everything into the mix like an untidy and unsavory stew. I guess it must have worked as my original draft was pared down from 220,000 words to 167,000. I was ruthless with myself. Actually, there is one more rule and my personal favorite. Never ask your reader to do you a favor by turning the page. It’s not your job to “lead a horse to water and try to make him drink.” It’s your job to make him thirsty!
In my case, one of the only persistent difficulties in the marketing process has been defining the most appropriate category. Belize Survivor: Darker Side of Paradise is actually my autobiography, an all-too-true story of passionate jungle adventure and domestic violence in an exotic foreign land. Edna St. Vincent Millay once said, “A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public with their pants down,” and particular to this dynamic, bringing the book to fruition has been both my demon and my redemption. I chose to write in the third-person from a limited omniscient POV, and tag it as a “novel based on a true story.” There are two reasons. Firstly, because of personal sensitivities and real-life family relationships, I needed the relative distancing and objectivity of third-person in order to accurately render this intimate tale. Secondly, I wanted to feel at least the illusion of safety from legal repercussions or even potential physical retribution. I have actually taken a chance by publishing at all. Regardless, I feel that this inspirational story needs to be told, and I refuse to let fear be a factor. So, as a proud and capable “survivor” rather than “victim,” I now bequeath it to the scrutiny of the public eye.
Nancy R. Koerner, Naples, FL USA – Copyright 2008
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