somebody rec me some good books. and they do actually have to be good. don’t rec me something just because it’s gay or it’s popular, it has to also still be good. like both the story and the writing have to be good none of this good concept bad writing or good writing horrible story. fantasy or soft scifi preferred, especially if it’s nontraditional fantasy. I am bored and sick of the internet and I want to get back into reading more but I’m kinda meh about most of what’s on my shelf

*edit: when I say “soft scifi” I don’t mean cozy I mean not hard scifi, as in stories that are more fantastical than grounded in hard science. for example the Martian is considered hard scifi, so not that. Star Wars would be closer to a soft scifi bc it’s all bullshit on the science end and it’s more about the vibes

7/18/21

Good morning Max!

So.

We are steadfastly embarking here on a blogging journey only about 3 entire weeks after we had this fantastic idea. One might argue that a *start* to an endeavor can’t be steadfast; steadfast is a pace that is maintained over a period of time, it indicates a consistency that can’t be identified after mere seconds of typing. But I would argue that that steadfast pace is going a certain speed, and we as a society have a collective idea of how fast that speed is, whether we’ve ever said it out loud or not. And I believe it is that speed at which I am embarking. So there. You bear with me and try to visualize THAT idea, and I’ll try and learn more words so we don’t have to keep having these little thought experiments every paragraph or so.

OK GREAT! WE’RE OFF! I have literally taken two full length breaks since I’ve started writing this. Why was I so scared to get this thing started anyway? Writing comes so naturally to me, like breathing, or shitting. I can’t believe people actually get paid to do this.

Alright, in all honesty, I know this is going to be wildly difficult for me to do with any consistency at all, much less DAILY (good lord...). So in order to make this a more surmountable task, we are going to make the topics and form that the blog takes on a little more free flowing than I might initially want them to be. We don’t care how the river is shaped at this very moment, just so long as there is water flowing down it.

Here are some creative writing projects constantly hanging over my head that might just rear their ugly heads in some form or another during these posts: Comedy Sketches Stand-up bits Segments/ideas for my eternally unfinished novel Standalone essays that I think would work as a youtube video, because of course an introverted depressed guy who thinks he’s interesting in 2021 wants to have a youtube channel. Etc.(?)

There, I finished the list with etc., even though I had no more concrete ideas for creative writing projects. That makes the list instantly 300% more official, and doesn’t paint me as wildly unconfident in my own personality AT ALL. I did mention to my mother that I was working on assorted creative writing projects to keep busy, and she immediately asked, “Oh! Like a [auto]biography?”

She’s pretty confident that I’ve got a bestseller on my hands if I just recounted the sad and lonely details of my life up until this point. She also called it a biography as indicated in my direct quote there, and I tried to fix it in post like any good editor would. But now I’m noticing that “fixing” the quote to say autobiography like she *meant* to say changes the proper article before the word from “a” to “an,” and I have no idea what the protocol for that correction would be...

Maybe it’s [an auto]biography? An [auto]biography? Maybe it’s [an autobiography], but then it’s much less clear what my mother’s initial mistake in vocabulary was, and I don’t want to let her off the hook so easily. Maybe I google this later, if I can think of what the hell you would type into google to find an answer to this. I guess my point bringing this up at all, is maybe I do actually try and use this space occasionally for a journal. Wading through the slimy, fetid bog of my younger days sounds extremely unfun, and, to a point of contention with my well-meaning mother, distinctly unprofitable. But unpacking my current self’s thoughts onto this page periodically does actually sound nice.

And this is a trade secret between you and me (you’re the only one reading this Max, sorry), I think it would behoove you to include several autobiographical moments in your perpetually ethereal novel. You need all the cheat codes you can get to get this wretched thing off the ground. We should lock the name in on that sucker by the way, just to help save you some keystrokes at least. I know I wrote down ‘Elements of War’ a loooong time ago as a placeholder. And I can confirm as of Sunday, July 18 2021, I don’t like it. It’s no good. I look at other titles of other stories, looking for inspiration, and they all seem to work just fine for the story their attached to. Harry Potter is just the name of the main guy, and that worked INCREDIBLY well. “Harry Potter and the [insert magic themed adventure keywords here].” Foolproof.

The main problem I have with a title is simply the fact that I know so little about the contents of my book at this point. It stands to reason that the book should find a title for itself as part of the process of actually writing the book. Seeing the events transpire in the story from a bird’s eye view would give you just about everything you could possibly need to title your book. Choosing a title for a story BEFORE the story really exists feels a bit like working backwards, even though the title would technically be the first thing anyone reads. I guess I could see it plausibly being created in either order. You don’t necessarily need to know the entire story you are setting out to tell to understand the story you’ve shown up to tell. Breaking Bad ostensibly didn’t know many of the finer details of its story before Vince Gilligan picked its title. Hell, it didn’t know many of its details before literally airing on TV. And there was never any consideration of changing the title of the show retroactively, once the showrunners figured out the ending, right? Stories need a title. And I don’t think I’m making some irredeemable authorial error by picking out a title before getting too far into my story-writing process. Although I’m often reminded of the They Might be Giants song “Experimental Film” when I dream up things like titles or dramatic plot points or the like:

“I already know the ending, It’s the part that makes your face implode, I don’t know what makes your fact implode, But that’s the way the movie ends.”

We all want that awesome moment. We all want to create that life changing piece of art. But creating is hard, and dreaming is easy. Or rather, dreaming is natural. We all have a dream at night, we get one simply by virtue of being awake. Understanding the dream, communicating the dream is hard. Hell, communicating anything can be hard. Part of me thinks that creative project that will define my legacy (wow, try unpacking that sentence later buddy) will be an interview show where I work with my guest to try and manifest the story they dream of telling in there head, but have never tried to tell it. Tell me that’s not a million dollar idea! If Ira Glass announced that show next week and Barack Obama was his first guest, you better believe that thing’s taking off like the fucking Quinjet from the Avengers. But you wouldn’t even need a big celebrity guest! I believe that literally everyone has the ingredients of a completely unique story kicking around in their heads. And to conclude this thought, I will often times pretend I’m the guest on this podcast (of course it’s a podcast), and I’ll try to play out what that interview would sound like. And I’ll be honest, that show would need a VERY smart host to keep the flow going. And in my interview fantasy, I’m also the host; so it’s admittedly hard. I think the “Experimental Film” song would be the theme song for that show for SO MANY reasons.

Ok, I’ll be honest. I took yet another break in the middle of that last paragraph, and I may have lost the thread a teeny-tiny bit. So I’m going to try and finish out any relevant thoughts and then I’m going to do a hard break and just move on to a completely new thought.

I actually had an idea of what my (at least for now) title should be. ~The Franz Lion~ This is the name of the ship in the story that all the main characters travel on. This is the primary setting for the majority of AT LEAST the first series of events in the book. I imagine if my story moved far away from the boat, by that point I could that “Part 2,” or it could be like a whole second book. Like the first book is called The Franz Lion, but then a new book comes out and you find out the series is called like “The Greatest Windybilly”; and Book 2 is like “The Drowned.” I don’t know, and I don’t care at this moment. I just know that all signs point to “The Franz Lion” as a fine title for this book. I admittedly can see a world where it’s more of a phrase, like “Aboard the Franz Lion” or “Weaver and the Franz Lion”, but right now, I don’t see something like that being better than just “The Franz Lion”. 

The Franz Lion is one of the VERY FEW things that I feel like I’ve hit a home run on. That to me is a fucking great name for a boat. It’s memorable, unique, easy to get on board with. I am aware that the boat from Legend of Zelda: Windwaker was named “the King of Red Lions”, so it’s not COMPLETELY unique. But I’m pretty confident that there is plenty of real estate in the Lions + Boats territory. So confident, in fact, that I’m locking that name in HARD. And then the name of the boat just works great as a title. Literally no one would be confused or lost or tempted to look too far into it. AND THEN, if they did look into it, I think there would be puh-lenty of symbolism and theming to pull out of the boat’s significance in the characters’ lives. And man, I know we talked about autobiographical elements, that’s unmistakable; which I am legitimately happy about. Fran Lyon was a HUGE figure in my life. Our relationship signified a change in my life that I literally was never able to come back from. And using that as inspiration for a ship that literally carries the main character away on a life-changing adventure seems like as great a place as any in trying to tell MY story. One day I can be Kurt Vonnegat-like good at writing stories, and I won’t have to borrow from real life to make convincing plots and characters, but for now this makes all the sense in the world to me. So, yeah, The Franz Lion. It exists in my head and one day it will exist on paper. And then I can die I guess. Wouldn’t that be nice? I look forward to trying to bring a teensy bit to you on your calendar here. Wish me luck!

----------------------------------------------------

Ok that was the break. This wasn’t THAT hard. Thank God. Cuz we have to do a lot more than this to be satisfied. We quit our job on my 30th birthday in part because the notion that I was missing the chance to do *this* was constantly gnawing at the back of our head. Honestly the fact that I literally forgot that this was the writing project I was supposed to be doing for like 18 days may just be a testament to how hard I had been trying to just read. 

I bundled writing with reading when I decided that I needed to be writing more. I said, well writing IS reading, and I can’t just sit down and read for shit. So if I’m going to really put writing at the forefront of my brain, I’m going to have to read too, dammit. And then I tried to sit down and read for, no joke, 2 entire weeks. And it fucking killed me. Unbelievable. Unbelievable how hard it was to incorporate into my life. I still don’t get it. So I quit with the intention of picking up these habits. And then I would evaluate how fulfilling it all felt, before I continued onto my path of adult life. You know, working, trying to meet new people, idk what else.... etc. And now that I can confirm how hard it has been to really stick to this and grind out being creative, all I know at this point is I’m not ready to go back. I can tell I want to be more competent at all this before I can make an assessment on what role being creative will play for my future. Seemingly my whole life I have teetered back and forth between wanting to be creative and being too scared to really try, and wanting to have the full life that hard work gets you; you know, the life that society sculpts for you. A wife, kids, vacations, cooking, friends, parties, movies. It’s not a matter of figuring out how it all works, it’s just a matter of going out grinding it all out. Securing it all piece by piece by putting in the requisite work. It’s not easy, but it’s also not complicated. And I guess ultimately I like to think I’m not someone who’s afraid of hard work. But if I’m not afraid of hard work, then why have I not put in the work to secure a career or friends or a partner or physical fitness or anything? Because I don’t want to? Do I really not want to? Or maybe I AM afraid of hard work. 

But let’s take a second to unpack that. I put in hard work at Olivia’s. I truly did. I worked hard enough there to qualify as working hard, period. And it felt good. I know this. I shouldn’t forget that. I worked hard, it wasn’t impossible; it wasn’t unsustainable. And it felt good. This is mostly why I tell myself I’m not afraid of hard work. Because it’s not some dark mysterious unknown entity. I’ve been on the other side of it now. It’s the main reason I didn’t think I HAD to be creative anymore. I’ve seen the whole path of hard work, and it actually looked traversable. I sometimes wonder if I had been so drawn to being creative because I was so afraid of travelling on the path of hard honest work. It would explain why it felt so good to actually work hard for once. It would explain why the idea of abandoning the creative path felt so good once I had it. I would imagine the idea of quitting “comedy” would be a pretty mournful one, to someone like me who had clung so desperately to that dream for so long. But it wasn’t. It was a relief in a way. To know that I didn’t have to pull out some wild success in this tumultuous field to be ok; it felt like taking off a heavy backpack. I just felt more capable, more free. The simple act of allowing myself to “quit” felt ok simply by virtue of spending years of my life thinking I couldn’t do ANYTHING, and that being creative was the only way to be ok with the prospect of being alive. Thinking about abandoning that dream told me I was more normal than I had managed to be for over a decade at this point. I looked up for the first time since I had been in college and had the thought that I could work hard and succeed, whatever that might mean. College was the place I first realized I was useless, and now Olivia’s was where I realized that that wasn’t true, I just wasn’t old enough yet. I am aging much slower than the average population; I haven’t exactly figure out why yet. But it’s clear that I am. And for better or worse, this is THE factor that has cast me aside from the le person. Figuring out why would be nice, but the truly important thing to do clearly is to use this to my advantage. Get my leg up the world with my unique vantage point. And as far as I can tell, in fact it seems quite obvious to me, my leg up is going to come from a creative outlet. A twenty year old having his 30th birthday is only going to have diminishing returns in the traditional American dream. It’s like getting paid 70% of what my peers are making. Part of me knows that even 70% of the full salary isn’t that bad. It’s plenty if you’re a hard worker and know how to live in the moment; but another part of me knows that only a fool should take less than he’s earned. I don’t actually know if I can make up all this time I’ve lost, being the proverbial time traveler that I am. I don’t know how on earth I would ACTUALLY go about recouping my salary back to its rightful 100%. I can’t manifest lifelong friends; I can’t rewrite my relationship to my parents and siblings; I can’t pick up 10+ years of romantic experiences from a youtube video. I could technically go back to college, but I don’t really want to. I only want to do that as much as I want to hop in a time machine and actually be the age I’m supposed to. 

Now that I think about it, if there was a story about a man who accidentally travels to the future and the finds out the world moved on without him (I mean there is, it’s called Rip Van Winkle). Yeah, now that I think about it, my story is very similar to a Coma patient’s. I just seemingly was given less time than I was promised. And I have to deal with that. But, what I’m saying is, it stands to reason that if this WERE a story, that character wouldn’t shine under those circumstances. They would wilt. They would lament and diminish. Only the rarest and most inspiring would rise up and overcome their disadvantage. Because it is a disadvantage. It’s not a unique vantage point. It’s not a matter of optimism vs pessimism. The glass is not half-full or half-empty; it is considerably less full than halfway. 

Right?

Hmm. What is my point here? I have suffered. Unequivocally. And to suffer is to be alive. Again, unequivocally. So maybe my time-travelling has actually gone the other way. I’ve lived far longer than the scant 30 years my birth certificate claims. It certainly feels like longer than 30 years, even though the activity log of my life would disagree. Maybe that’s it. I’ve replaced my life with dreams. I’ve suffered in places where I was meant to thrive. And in doing so I’ve gone far under my quota of accomplishments and memories, and gone far over my quota of misery and regrets. In that sense I’ve lived out less of my life that I was meant to in some ways and lived out substantially more of my life in other ways. And I can’t say that unhappy (or rather that I don’t love myself as I am), but I can see why I never ever heard anybody recommend living your life this way. 

“I am young. I am old”

Why can’t I be the age I am? Why was that so hard to accomplish? What did I need to do to fix that? And why do people think I should enjoy my birthday? Can’t they see I’ve been time-traveling? This birthday was for someone else. I don’t actually know when my birthday is. I only know when it isn’t.

Now that I’ve thought about it, I think a time-traveler is a perfectly fine person to be a creative type. He might not be the smartest or the fastest, and he’ll never be the happiest; but it’s safe to say he cheated and got wiser than his peers will ever get a chance to. At least if he was paying attention he got wiser. We all know what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. But then we all go spending our life trying to get stronger, and rarely do we ever get close enough to getting killed. So I have to show up like the man that survived the fatal disease, and got stronger than anyone should have to, without even really trying*.

Ok calling it here. Day 1 in the books. The daily blog is still at 100% completion rate! Nice

Love you, be good.

Top 5 Indie Author Myths #amwriting #writer

During my web travels, in just about every author group out there, I come across a variation of the following post:

“Indie authors suck. They need to quit publishing and learn basic English and grammar, and how to tell a story. They’re only good at promoting themselves, and they only self-publish because real publishers wouldn’t publish them. I bet most of them barely have a high school education and I’m pretty sure they don’t read.“

Oftentimes it’s revealed the person posting is getting their B.A. or Masters in English, and they’re unpublished, hoping to be discovered by an editor or agent as the next great American writer. They believe the traditional path is the only legitimate way to publication. It takes a lot of arrogance to be an observer, afraid to step onto the field, while standing on the sidelines criticizing the actual players. So, I saw a variation of this post this morning and I just had to write a blog post. I am so tired of self-important writers spreading their vitriol and jealousy, all the while viewing other writers as their competitors.

MYTH: Indie authors only self-publish because real publishers won’t give them the time of day.

TRUTH: A lot of indie authors started out in traditional publishing, realized they couldn’t afford to eat on what the industry was paying, and decided to take a stab at being independent. Some of them still have traditional contracts, or regularly get published in anthologies, magazines, and/or digital newspapers. I know one indie author who was an editor at a newspaper before quitting her job to pursue her indie career full time. I wrote for magazines (a column, articles, and short fiction) and sold both a novel and a NF book to traditional publishers before I decided to go indie. So plenty of us have seen traditional publication.

MYTH: Indie Authors are generally uneducated.

TRUTH: Numerous indie authors I know have B.A.’s and M.A.’s actually. Many of those in English and/or Journalism. Sure, some indies may have little more than a high school education, but that doesn’t mean anyone without a college degree is a bad writer, or that they can’t learn to be a good writer. Just like having a college degree is not necessarily an indication of a good writer. I have a B.A. in English (journalism minor). So do a lot of writers. Looking back, I could have gotten the same education through my local writing group and saved myself thousands in tuition. (We have an awesome local writing group that teaches craft and offers critique groups.)

MYTH: Indie Authors don’t read books.

TRUTH: Yes, we’ve all met that rare writer who doesn’t read books. However, I’ve found that the bulk of indie authors I know (and I know A LOT of them), read voraciously. They read to study the market. They read for education. They read for inspiration. They read for pleasure. They read. I’d be perfectly comfortable saying that 95% of writers were readers before they became writers. It was their love of reading that inspired them to become writers. That���s true for me at least. I still read 30-50 books a year on top of a busy writing/publishing career and a side gig helping my family’s business with payroll and HR stuff.

MYTH: Indie Authors don’t care about grammar and spelling.

TRUTH: There are books out there that need an editor. I do agree with that. There is also a certain type of indie author that would do well to take a grammar class and use their spellchecker. However,the bulk of indie authors I know actually hire editors to go over their books for them. Even then, editors miss stuff. I have had books and articles published through traditional publishers with more errors than you’ll find in my indie work. Typos happen. Most readers don’t care about the occasional typo if the story is good. Also – writers learn as they go. Sure, perhaps there are writers out there whose grammar could use some work. Hell – even I struggle sometimes and have to look certain rules up. We all learn as we go and no one is perfect and knows everything. English is such a complex, living language, I am still learning new things with each book.

MYTH: Indie Authors don’t care about story craft.

TRUTH: In my observation, indie authors are students of craft just like most writers. They read in their genre to study what works and what doesn’t. They attend critique groups or have critique partners. They take craft classes. They read books about craft. What they may not do is write formula fiction, which is often mistaken as not caring about story craft. You may find indie authors experimenting more, or writing more graphic scenes than traditional publishing allows. Characters may not fit traditional molds. Tropes may be twisted in new and interesting ways that the traditional camp won’t allow for. I’ve also noticed many indie critics don’t know the difference between craft and writer’s voice. What they may be discovering is they don’t like a writer’s voice, and that’s a different thing than story craft. I think there’s always something new to learn about story craft, and we continually work to improve our techniques.

So there we have it, five broad sweeping myths about self-published authors that keep being perpetuated by fellow writers as a way to demean folks they feel are their competition. Are there a few bad apples in indie land? Yes. But don’t paint all indie authors with the same brush. Especially since a lot of the books sitting happy on various bestseller lists are by indie authors. It was the readers who put those books on those lists. Know the facts. Instead of sitting online all day whining about indie authors, perhaps your time would be better spent, I don’t know, writing? 😉

Indie Vs. ...Not

When news first came out that Milo YouKnowWhoPoulos had been offered a book deal with Simon & Schuster, and various conscientious S&S writers were publicly speaking out—with Roxanne Gay, remarkably, even pulling her forthcoming book from them—I kept thinking one thing: this will never happen to TigerBee’s authors. 

The thought wasn’t smug, it was simply persistent, especially after I saw Gay’s poignant “please don’t let it be my publisher” tweet. We can’t offer our authors $250k book deals (yet—maybe in 2018, ha) but we can offer them the peace of mind that their work will be in a catalog permanently free from fascists, neo-Nazis, professional racists, career Islamphobes, etc. While that’s among the faintest praise possible, it’s also, sadly, not a guarantee many mainstream publishers can make.* We’re a small press without a huge budget; we will take whatever marks of distinction we can get.

Then in February, with this confidence/pride still relatively fresh, I was at a party where a poet mentioned to me she regretted publishing her first book with a brand new press because it didn’t get much distribution, and I immediately felt bad. What if the authors we work with feel that one someday, or feel that way now? That would make me so sad. I want our authors to feel served by us; on the semi-rare occasions I try to sell someone on working with us, my solicitation always involves a lot of let me help you. (Use TB as a resource! Tell us what you need! I am your collaborator and cheerleader! I am here for you!) Because that’s how I really feel. And I believe we do the best we can to fulfill that explicit and implicit promise.

With these two ideas in mind, I started thinking of a really basic pro/con list when it comes to trusting an indie press with your writing (or your visual art, or both) as compared to taking it to a mainstream press, and here’s what I came up with. You should know, if you don’t already, that we are still new to publishing, so while I’m sharing everything I can think of, I’m sure there’s more. And if you notice something I’ve overlooked, tell me! Tweet at us, reply to this post, send an email, a Facebook message, whatever. We would love to hear. 

MAINSTREAM PUBLISHERS:

have cache, like pledging with a certain sorority/fraternity. People who pay attention to these things are going to have an informed reaction to your book landing at FSG or Little Brown or Simon & Schuster. They’re going to presume things about the work (and you) without having read the book, possibly before the book even exists, like how literary it is, how sellable it is, etc. They’re going to be impressed, or they’re going to be snide, or they’ll just be happy for you. Likewise, the acquisition might make you feel extra good, or you might feel disappointed. You might feel insecure because it’s not as elite an association as you wanted, or you might feel good and insecure, as in: holy shit I can’t believe this publisher wanted me, now I have to make sure the book is really good and a bestseller and gets no bad reviews, etc. Or so I’ve heard + seen from my friends. I’m pretty much clueless when it comes to the reputation of imprints, like which one is supposed to be for respected esoteric geniuses who never make money, and which is known for pop psychology/science titles, and so on. It’s all a big question mark to me. But to plenty of other people, it’s important, or at least relevant. Of course, to even more people, it’s not. 

have money, some of which they might give to you. At the risk of stating the obvious, even very large and very rich publishers buy books for tiny sums. But I find it nearly inconceivable that an indie press has ever given a six figure advance or even a high five figure one. (Though I could be wrong, and if you know of some exceptions, please tell me who/when/what book!) If you have your heart set on a massive advance, you’ll probably find it hard to get excited about any small publisher. Because $$$$$$$. I get it. 

have excellent distribution. I am in awe of the seamless, colossal endeavor that is book distribution for mainstream publishers. It’s like magic to me, and there’s so much more I could say about it but it would probably bore you so I’m just going to leave it at: if someone wants to order your book from a Barnes & Noble branch and you’re with a large publisher, B&N can probably do that with no problem. Of course, it’s baffling to me that someone would order a book from a big box bookstore instead of requesting it from an indie bookstore or just using Amazon, but I digress. 

(They'll take care of foreign distribution, too, probably.) This is, like, something we cannot even begin to think about right now. Though we do fulfill lots of international orders on our website.

have ~connections~. Big publishing houses are well-positioned to get you press in the form of TV interviews, book reviews, readings, etc, though—and more on this in a minute—it’s not a guarantee they’ll use their resources wisely, or at all. 

I think those are the highlights. Now for the home team:

SMALL/INDIE PRESSES:

give a shit. How can they not? They’re definitely not in it for the money, which does not exist, or the glory (because, ditto.) They’re doing it because they really love poetry/experimental fiction/brilliant nonfiction/etc. and want the world to have more of it. I’m not implying people in mainstream publishing don’t feel the same way, because I know some do. But obviously the “culture” is different, and the intimacy is different, the familiarity and sense of investment is different, because with a small press, you’re dealing with a much smaller group of people and it’s hard to evade responsibility if you’re one of ten, one of five, or one of two people who constitute the whole enterprise. In that vein, an indie publisher....

can (probably) give you more time and attention. A big publishing house takes on a lot of projects and runs them through a lot of people. This is great when it comes to say, copyediting (aka the bane of my entire existence from now until eternity, my god I hate it so much,) but not so good when it comes to, say, promotion, when you’re trying to have a conversation with people about how your book should be sold and those people probably haven’t even read your book. (That’s a link to one of my all-time favorite essays, “Into The Woods” by Emily Gould, and if you have even a little bit of interest in writing as a career, you should read the whole thing more than once, more than twice, even, although you may stop short of reading it the 20 times that I likely have.)  

have less reach but more close connections. Over the past two years, between dropping off copies of Prostitute Laundry and arranging Bad Advice readings, I’ve gotten to know staff members at so many independent bookstores, and—shockingly—that includes bookstores outside of New York. It’s been a great pleasure because not only are these people fun to know in their own rights, but it also fosters a sense of community and keeps me from feeling like I’m sending emails and books into an uncaring void. As a result of those connections, I suspect, not only have the booksellers agreed to stock future TigerBee titles in the first place, but they often give those titles prominent placement, which makes a huge difference for in-store sales. (I say I suspect because who knows, maybe me always showing my face around these places exhausts the folks who work there, but the TigerBee books are just that good that they have to be kept on display tables and end caps.)  

by which I mean: Friends who’ve published with mainstream presses have told me (what I receive as) horror stories about them not being encouraged to do readings or a proper tour, having their book(s) routinely shelved in the wrong sections, billed as something they’re not, and otherwise mismanaged. Everyone makes mistakes, and it’s not as if everyone at an indie press is guaranteed to be spectacular at their job, but I’d guess most of them at least understand the importance of clear and accurate presentation and communication, especially in brick and mortar spaces.

have some cache, too. An indie publisher is still a publisher, and so it sounds better and is more legitimizing to go with a small press than to have no titles to your name, or to be self-published. (Obviously I didn’t really care about the taint of self-publishing, and I don’t think you need to either, or that anyone does, but there’s no denying it, it *is* nice to feel legitimized.) There’s also something impossibly alluring about a limited edition book that feels sort of secret. Who wouldn’t want bragging rights that they’ve got a first edition or the only edition of a chapbook by someone who goes on to be widely recognized as the genius they always were? It’s badass when you (meaning, I,) click on the first book by someone who’s a bigger deal now than they were then, and see that it’s sold out. It’s so maddening! I want that book! But everyone involved seems about 10 points cooler than they did when I thought the book was still available.** 

let you own your masters. I can’t speak for other small publishers, but our contracts are extremely generous to authors while remaining fair to us (i.e., giving us a chance to recoup some of the costs associated with the project.) We have exclusive rights for a period but then it all reverts to you, which means you can put it in an anthology, resell it, make a TV show about it, whatever, and you won’t have to pay or consult us. As a writer, I find this state of affairs really exciting. I love knowing that no one is going to get the rights to turn Prostitute Laundry into a movie unless I trust them with those rights. (And not only do I alone make the decision, I alone get paid. Sweet.)

don’t require that you have an agent. If you’ve got an agent, we are happy to work with them. But we don’t require that manuscripts be sent to us by an agent, so it’s one less thing for you to worry about if you don’t already have one. (Though by all means, please, if it gets to that point: have someone knowledgable look at our contract with you before you sign.)

gives you lots of control. I hear a lot about how writers are supposed to be divas and sometimes I see it, for sure, but I see a lot more writers being really, really nervous to voice their concerns or opinions on their books’ presentation, by which I mean the title, the cover, the marketing, etc. I have friends who’ve sucked up crappy titles assigned by their mainstream publisher in the hope that they’ll feel entitled to more leeway when they’re negotiating cover designs, or vice versa, and friends who feel like they can’t tell the truth about any of it (all of which they hate.) I’ve also seen a lot of hideous covers, like inexcusably hideous, as possibilities and as final decisions—I’m sure you’ve seen them, too. (Our nation’s ugly cover crisis is a topic for another time, like when xanax is on hand.) We have great taste, so all our products will always look beautiful, but we also care very, very much about making sure our creators are happy, so we will solicit your approval again and again at various stages of the process. Perhaps even too much! 

Sooooo, I don't know—was that useful? Clarifying? I really want every creator to end up at the place that fits them the best, whether that’s us or the biggest publisher on the planet, or a tumblr, or twitter, no publisher at all. And if you’re thinking about going with a small press but we seem too small or new for you, Birds LLC and Coffeehouse are two indie publishers I admire and respect very much, and there are tons of other worthy ones. Research, think about it, talk with friends about. I hope you find the fit that’s right for you because if you put care into your work, your work deserves it. 

—Charlotte

*Lest some pedantic person come along and be like, “what about Mein Kampf, isn’t there a responsibility to keep repugnant historical texts in print so we can learn from the past, etc. etc.”: yes, I get it, duh. That’s obviously not what I’m pointing at here. I’m referring to publishing *new* repugnant works without historical significance and furthermore, I don’t see us taking on the task of printing things that are public domain and/or part of deceased fascist author’s estate anyway, so the odds of this specific scenario presenting itself to us seem low. 

**I want your book to sell and sell and sell, and be available to everyone who would benefit from reading it, and I think it’s my job as a publisher to accurately judge existing interest and further whip up an audience, so I will always strive to do that well. But still: unattainability is hot, with people and with objects. Just ask any luxury brand that lives and dies by their artificial scarcity.