I have a searing record for disdaining self-publishing. Now, I must recant my previous position.

One week in, and the relief is palpable. No longer must I sit on manuscripts and stories, no longer must I think about pleasing editors, marketeers, and literary agents, no longer must I suffer spending an entire day composing yet another query letter, only to have a literary agent say, yes, they’d love to read it, then turn around and tell me that, yes, it’s very well written, intense, engaging, riveting…BUT. But what? But they can’t figure out how to place it or market it.

I’m FREE. I can write for readers, not traditional publishing moguls.

This is the very best thing to have happened to me when it comes to my career as an author.

Why? Because I call the shots, now. And that’s a pleasure. It means I can say what I want, how I want, when I want, and, if someone doesn’t like it, they can say so, but it’s not going to come back to me via frowns from my literary agent or house editor.

Thank you. And apologies to all you independent authors out there who are worth your salt as novelists and short story writers. To you I own a bow and beg your forgiveness for my previous attitude. HOWEVER, to those independent “authors” who write tripe and trash and stuff that should never see print, I wish you’d all go play with your cell phones and your various sex toys instead of pushing your pulp on the fiction world.