What I Learned in Self-Publishing School Is:

(In case you missed the reference) Source

(In case you missed the reference) Source

If you came by my booth at Pride, you probably noticed that there were 3 of me. There was Capital M Me (the me with the snaggly teeth and dangerously high levels of enthusiasm, given the heat index), then a blue-haired me (who was holding Capital M Me on a leash, but not the kinky kind, just the "keep calm and actually sell your product" kind), and finally, a super hot but moderately confused me (bless her soul). 

OK, so we're 3 different people (probably, hopefully), but my 2 companions served as extensions of myself and my product (my novel, Necessaries) at my booth. Without them, I would have crumpled in front of the crowd. I wouldn't have sold nearly as many books, I wouldn't have met the interesting people I did, and I guarantee that fewer people would have even approached my booth, much less tried to interact with me. I know these things because while the 2 of them took a break, I felt totally swamped by people coming up to spin the prize wheel and ask about the book and request business cards. I couldn't keep up with the (unexpected but extremely appreciated) crowd. People noticed that, and walked away rather than wait for a chance to chat.

TL;DR: Having multiple people at my booth was lifesaver.

BUT.  They also made me realize that I don't know how to explain my own content.

As I mentioned in my melancholy follow-up Pride post, being self-published means you are your own marketing team. In my efforts to market myself and my writing, I've created things like this website, and a Facebook page, and who knows how many author pages on other websites. In the process, I've shared boatloads of information about myself, and also random reviews, and goofy commentary on my life, and even some serious writing about modern social issues. My content is a strange mish-mash of experience, opinion, and art.

So, when promoting my website, my other "me's" had to come up with a way to succinctly describe what I do. One of them mentioned that I write about my experiences in self-publishing. At the time, I was like, "Yeah, I've totally written about my self-publishing journey. That seems legit." But now, I'm not so sure. 

Which means it's time to remedy that! Today, I'll give you an introductory post on where I am with my writing and why I chose self-publishing. I'll go into greater detail on specific topics in future posts, so if you are curious about anything in particular, now is the time to bring it up to me so I can plan to address it.

How I Got Here (and Where Is Here?)

Imagine it. A grid of identical cubicles, gray and tomb-like under the sour glow of the overhead lights. The constant electronic chatter of ringing phones, the overlapping voices of the damned souls who must answer them. The faint but acrid odor of burnt popcorn. 

There, sitting in one of the sad little boxes, is me, about 2 years ago. 

I was a total loss claims representative. I was charged with telling people in crisis that their car - a huge portion of their asset pool, often the most expensive item they own - was a total loss, and that I had a non-negotiable settlement amount for them. And most people really didn't want to have that conversation. And as the insurance company I worked for increased mandatory overtime and created actual "shame lists" to punish people who took the time to do their jobs right, I stopped being able to let the awful things customers said to me slide off my back. I stopped feeling quite as numb when I saw pictures of blood-covered cars. I became a raw nerve. Panic attacks, nightmares, drinking huge amounts of alcohol to quiet my eternally racing heart and knock myself out before I could do real damage to myself.

I did have one good coping mechanism, and that was writing Necessaries.

I've always loved telling stories. I started drawing comics as soon as I could hold a pencil. I invented dozens of deeply involved, character-driven games to play with my brother (Dr. Faustus in space was a particularly... interesting one). But it took working a shitty, nightmarish job to get me to focus on writing a complete novel. I could escape into another world for a while, and the act of concentrating on the writing helped me to stop thinking about the stress of my job.

Eventually, things came to a head at work. Some dark stuff happened. There are several months of my life that are just blurs in my memory. I left that hell, and wound up with a better job at a small wealth management office. And I published Necessaries.

Why did I go the self-publishing route? These are my personal reasons:

  • This is my first novel. I believe it's good, and my pre-readers had positive things to say about it. But it has a long way to go. I didn't have the money for an editor, so the polishing that my friends and family and I did to the book were enough for me, but probably not enough for a larger publishing house. So, I didn't have the funds to invest, and since I had no previous writing out there for people to see and give feedback on, I was hesitant to waste a lot of time and money on a first project. In a way, I'm testing the waters with this novel, and the waters are feeling pretty fine.
  • On an emotional level, I needed to be done with this book and make it immediately available to my friends and family. I wrote this book during the worst few years of my life. It was a lifesaver for me, but it also carries a lot of painful baggage. Making Necessaries so easily available was cathartic for me, and served as evidence that I'd come through a terrible time but had come out on the other side with something valuable. It was like a message to my friends that I was OK, and it was an invitation for them to come close again and look at the pieces of my heart I'd preserved in the book.
  • I wanted to develop a readership. A lot of literary agents won't consider an author unless they have a following. Having Necessaries out there, marketing it myself, and writing regularly on this site and others make me more visible. For my next book, I'll be able to show the agents I query that there are interested readers out there, and I wouldn't have those readers had I not published Necessaries.
  • I still consider writing a hobby. Kinda. I'd like to change that, but as it stands, writing isn't my day job. It's getting harder and harder for writers to survive as career authors. Self-publishing gives me full control over my book. How it's presented, what's on the cover, everything down to the price. I can organize special events like giveaways because of my status as a self-publisher. I'm free to experiment without someone taking a cut of my profits, and I don't have to worry that my publisher will slack in their marketing, since I'm the one in charge. A sloppy publisher can kill their own books, and if sales plummet, my chances of getting back on board with them could be slim.
  • Self-publishing may be the way of the future. More and more authors are putting their work out there like this, which means the book market is becoming more diverse. It also means more competition. However, in an increasingly self-serve society, it wouldn't surprise me if the tides turn away from traditional publishing soon. In fact, the turn has already begun.
  • I can always traditionally publish in the future. For now, I can bring in a little cash, get my name known, and acquire some feedback. Perhaps in the future, I'll be able to afford that editor, and will have developed the industry know-how to sell a publisher on the story. (By the way... I never approached a publisher with Necessaries, so I don't know how it would have been received.)

In summary, emotional, financial, and self-branding reasons drove my decision. My name is out there now. I have a book under my belt, and I'm learning about how to sell my book and myself, because you really do have to sell both. 

I'll be honest. I've put a lot more money into this thing than I've gotten out. I've taken the book to a self-published book fair and to Pride, and I'm constantly seeking out new places to show Necessaries off. Despite the expense, every time I do something like run an ad on Amazon (also a benefit of self-publishing) or do a reading at a writing conference, I get a little boost in sales, I make new connections, and my name gets spread a little further.

This is where I am. My first novel is in print, and has sold a few dozen copies, nothing wild. But I have readers on my blog, and folks who interact with me on Facebook, and complete strangers who came across my book online and wrote wonderfully encouraging reviews. 

And I'm having a terrific time. I'm learning some strange and fantastic and frustrating things about the book industry. I'm getting a better idea of how I want to handle publishing my next book. Even the way I write is improving thanks to meeting other writers, reading other self-published fiction, and explaining/selling my book to potential readers.

In future posts, I'll go into greater detail about what I've done, whether the stuff I've done has worked, my general observations on the world of self-publishing, the unexpected lessons I've learned, and where I plan to go from here. If you have a particular question or topic you want to know more about, comment and ask me! Or you can message me on Facebook. 

Until next time! Much love! :D 

(Gay)Pride and Prejudice

For Indianapolis, Pride Week was a time of celebration, awareness, and most of all, love. But for Orlando, as you all have seen by now, this weekend was a glimpse into Hell. There is so much to say about this act of profound hate, and I have spent so much time weeping for the victims and their families, but I don't want to inundate an already suffering community with too many more words of heartbreak and sympathy. The truth is, I can't comprehend the pain of those who were there. I'm blessed to have not experienced this horror firsthand.

However, there are a few things all of us can do from afar. First, we can act practically, and donate to the Pulse Victims Fund. This is a safe, authenticated place to donate, and I would encourage you to spare a little cash to help make these wounded families financially whole. I donated a small part of my profits from my book stand at Pride. Please stand with me, if you can.

Second, we can stand up to fear and hate. America is not defined by the hateful actions of one deranged citizen (and yes, he was an American citizen, and he acted out of bigotry, not religion). As an ally, you can embrace your LGBT family and friends, you can be vocal for our cause, you can be unafraid of speaking out for what is right. As an LGBT person, you can prove that we are not a community to be broken and sent into hiding. We are here, and we are strong, and we refuse to live our lives in terror. 

Have I told you about the night my fiancée, Kelsey, proposed to me? We had, over the past year and a half, become fairly comfortable being a couple in public. Sometimes, we were hesitant to give a quick kiss, or hold hands, or introduce each other as anything more than a friend (you know, just gals bein' pals, nothing to see here). But for the most part, we felt safe. So that night, we rode together in an admittedly cheesy Cinderella-esque carriage around downtown Indianapolis. I had just accepted Kelsey's ring and we were approaching the end of our ride when a man noticed us from across the street and began to lurch toward the carriage.

"THAT AIN'T RIGHT," he announced, because apparently his announcement might change our minds about being in love.

Then the carriage stopped, and we had to get off, because the brusque driver was clearly uninterested in taking us any further than Kelsey had booked. But we were scared. At least, I was. This insane man was just down the block, and our ride wasn't exactly subtle. He was between us and our car, and what if he had a gun? I was both frightened and outraged. How dare he stain our night? How dare he remind me that Kelsey and I still aren't safe in our own city? Just being ourselves?

I feel that rage in me again today, the kind that boils in the throat, burns the eyes as they tear up. And all the more I can say on the topic is that we should all take steps to transform the anger into positive action, and the hate into love. 

We also need to take care to protect LGBT People of Color right now (and always). Queer Latinx were the target, and they need a great deal of love from us today. Please remember as well that Muslims, queer or otherwise, are not the enemy here. Keep them safe today and always! Please keep them safe and offer them your love and support!

Now, I do want to talk about the incredible atmosphere of joy and love that defined Indy Pride (or at least my experience of it). Because there are good things happening in the gay community, and even great evil cannot crush the great good that is building.

So, buckle up for a bumpy shift in mood.

Oh golly, look at those cuties.

Oh golly, look at those cuties.

This was Baby's First Vendor Booth! And despite months of planning and preparation, Saturday still felt like a whirlwind! Who knew so many gays liked books? Hint: ME. I knew. Of course gays like books. For many of us, they were our safest refuge growing up. But that's a little too heavy to go into today.

In true Abi G. Douglas (shamelessly name-plugs myself in my own blog entry) fashion, here's a bullet list of what I learned at Pride:

  • Regardless of your prizes, spinny wheels are catnip to drunk people and children. Even if your fiancée made the peg-ticker thing at the top out of the bottom of an Arby's Bronco Berry sauce package, when a drunk person sees that wheel, they hear the booming voice of destiny calling them, and boy do they ever answer that call.
  • There are a lot of impressive Indiana artists out there! I have tons of new people to watch for and connect with. Also, did you know there's an LGBT library? I'm ashamed that I wasn't aware...
  • Cops attract a weird crowd. My booth was next to a police booth that was giving out coloring books and other cool trinkets, and they brought in an odd set of folks. One woman was deeply curious about how police might show up at a club (were they called? How long does it take for them to arrive? etc). There were a number of people who just wanted to taunt them. Those officers practically disapparated the second we were allowed to tear down our booths (7 pm, if you're curious). 
  • Banners are hard. Not, like, literally hard, but surprisingly more difficult to display than the internet told me. Hanging that thing on the table required more awkward humping motions than I had predicted.
  • People like stuff they can wear on their heads. Even too-small plastic headbands with alien heads attached on top. People gobbled those up. I'm confused, but somehow warmed that those prizes were so successful.
  • Speaking of prizes, it pays (nah, actually, it costs a crap ton) to make your own fans. People were trading in their piddly single-ply paddle fans for by child-sized (as in, the size of actual children) card-stock tornado-makers. If this whole writing thing doesn't work out for me, I can always go into the custom fan business.
  • It's possible I haven't written about my publishing process here as I thought I had... But now I know that I need to talk about it, because I have been storing up a lot of info!
  • Friends/family can be a huge help, but you run the risk of obliterating your relationships with them. The chaos, the heat, the traffic, the expense... they all contribute to you nearly smashing your significant other in the face with a handmade prize wheel.
  • But in the end, it's absolutely worth it. You meet fascinating people, and see love in action, and even sell some books. 
  • That said, I might take a break from this next year so I can actually enjoy the wildness that is Indy Pride.

...

Okay, I'll admit, I tried to shift the mood, but my heart isn't in it. Indy Pride reminds me that we've come so far, but there is still such a long way to go. I wanted to talk about some funny, silly stuff, but I'm afraid my list fell flat. My heart hurts, and the funny stuff may have to wait until next time. For now, I'm drawing out my feelings. 

Warmest thoughts of love and hope to you all. Stay safe. Stay brave.

Gettin' Hitched Is a Helluva Business

This morning, I wake up to an email from someone demanding $500, which is apparently past due. I'm already running late because my phone has decided to retire one vital function at a time and today that function was the alarm. So I'm standing in a half-asleep panic in my room, one leg in my cat hair couture slacks, grandma-style bra severely misaligned, staring at this email and wondering who I owe money to now. 

There are a few possibilities that I jump to first. To start with, medical bills. Is this unknown person reminding me of yet another unpaid hospital bill? A half hour of "therapy" (for an illness I don't have, by the way, but that's another long, strange tale) that slipped through the cracks? A charge for breathing in the proximity of a hospital, even if I didn't check in? Because I'm still getting random bills for treatment I received 7 months ago, and I'm barely joking about the bizarre charges I've received at random intervals since then.

But the email seems too casual for that. So maybe it's from the small marketing business I use to promote Necessaries? Because working with them has been a little... chaotic. There doesn't seem to be a lot of structure, and it wouldn't surprise me if they forgot that I'd already paid for their services. Hey, it's a small business, and it hasn't figured itself out yet.

And what if it's a scam? Standing partially nude and with my chin still caked in drool, I'm outraged by the thought. So I fire back, announcing I don't know who this is, or what the charge means. If it's a medical thing, this is unprofessional. If it's the marketing service, it's sloppy and incorrect. If it's a scam, don't these people know I'm broke?

At the moment I hit send, I remember the only remaining giant money-suck after the medical and book business options. 

The wedding.

Oh my gawd, I've just sassed the kind woman who is in charge of our venue. I immediately apologize and explain my mistake. I don't remember her telling us about another $500 charge due 6 months before the wedding, but I totally buy it. My head has been so chock full of wedding crap that it's leaking out my ears, and I'm sure I'm losing important details because of that (despite the elaborate wedding planner binder my mother-in-law-to-be provided). 

Between the music and the dresses and the invitations and the photographer and the guest list that is 85% people I've never heard of, my brain is turning to soup. Not just soup. Spicy, angry, bowel-singeing chili. Whenever Kelsey and I have to "real talk" about wedding junk, I have this invisible line I risk crossing between "This is fine and we're getting things done and maybe I'm even enjoying it" and "Why the HELL am I letting this stupid, sexist industry devour my soul, empty my family's pockets, and fill my Facebook feed with advertisements about 'saying yes to the man (lol) of my dreams'?" 

And when I cross that line, I'm one nasty, whiskey-swigging, teeth-gnashing bride-to-be. 

But who wouldn't be? This wedding stuff is insane. There's so much to deal with, and every single person you encounter seems to have a strong opinion on how your wedding should go. You have to make thousands of decisions on vendors, and pay them all handsomely for quality. You have to sort friends and family friends and family (even the family members you think your mom might be making up for the sake of adding more names) before sending invitations and you KNOW someone is gonna have their heart broken, but the venue just isn't big enough. You have to make yourself pretty. Absurdly, fairy tale pretty, even if you were just diagnosed with a disease that makes you gain weight, grow a beard, and become enveloped in acne. 

The worst of it is turning down everyone else's opinion without making enemies or being labeled a bridezilla. What an awful term. You know, every vendor I've encountered is used to working with the bride, not the groom. So the bride is the one expected to have opinions, yet when she does, she's mocked for it. And the groom is just, I don't know, along for the ride? This stuff doesn't quite apply for Kelsey and me, I suppose, but the weird "This day is about you!" vs "Here are my 8,000 opinions on your wedding and if you turn them down then you're a rampaging monster!" dynamic is still there.

It's all part of the business model. It's an industry, plain and cold and simple. And it's an industry that targets women, because the significance of marriage and "our special day" has been pressed on us since birth. So women end up in charge of everything, but society has this weird way of demonizing women who are in charge of things. It's a nasty Catch 22.

But it's OK to still like weddings, even though they're often problematic and overly commercialized. After all, regardless of the venue and cost and guest list, it IS our day. And I'll try to make it as perfect as possible, and I'll get frustrated, and I'll shoot people down if I have to, and it still won't be perfect.

And that's fine. We're not perfect. So we'll throw the best damn party we can, and invite as many loved ones as we can, and pay the outrageous costs knowing that sometimes, you just gotta.

And next time I get a confusing email asking for money, I won't immediately punch the wall and throw a tantrum, and I'll try to think about the dozens of people who just want to help me make our big day one to remember for the rest of our lives.

(Seriously, I bruised my hand.)

(Did I use too many gifs? Naaaaah...)

Poets Are People Too

Maybe you were spared from my enthusiastic announcements on Facebook, or maybe you don't follow me there (which you really should, because I think I'm a riot), but Indiana Humanities has selected its "Field of 33" poets for the 100th running of the Indianapolis 500...

AND I'M ONE OF THEM! 

No, I'm not the big winner (or even 2nd place), but I was selected as an honorable mention. As such, my poem may wind up in a collection with the other winners sometime down the line. In the immortal words of Kermit the Frog, "YAAAAAY!"

Not only do I get the bragging rights and the potential for publishing, I also got to perform my poem at the Indiana Humanities office! I fully expected to poop myself in front of everyone or something equally horrifying, but you'll be relieved to know that my bowels obeyed me and I got through my poem without incident. Thanks to everyone who came to support me! I got misty-eyed.

I meant to post this before the event so I could pressure people into coming... but my wonderful peeps took up almost a quarter of the large living room the event took place in, so y'all must have heard me yowl about it enough on Facebook. I just feel so behind these days! There's a lot going on. Who knows? Maybe I'll have time to write about some of it someday (*sarcastic sigh*).

Oh, I nearly forgot! Here's my poem on it's own (I'd remove the spaces if I could) (#SquarespaceProblems) :

Your Start

start

your

engines

it’s hypnotic, the infrasonic

bellow of your fellow

racers

you’re thunder in spring

you bring

a rain of applause

the awe in their

faces

and you were here

for years

when the wind would bite

and you thought it might

storm

or when it was warm

and you could taste the win

the car was your skin

no gender, no face

no labels of love or faith

the only race, this race

your only home, the bricks

the timer ticks

in this town

where you got the fire in your heart

and among the

engines

your

start

Kickstarter Portrait Collection!

You know how I offered to draw super versions of the folks who donated at the $25 level or higher for my Pride booth Kickstarter? Well, I finally finished those portraits! And now, everyone can see the results! (Even though they're poorly photographed... my phone is overdue for an update... isn't technology absurd?)

After Deirdre was abducted by aliens, she discovered her eyeliner could be more than decorative. At her thought, her wings extend, lithe and vicious, ready to snap and bind and grasp. Maybe it seems like a silly power. But hers is a strange and uniq…

After Deirdre was abducted by aliens, she discovered her eyeliner could be more than decorative. At her thought, her wings extend, lithe and vicious, ready to snap and bind and grasp. Maybe it seems like a silly power. But hers is a strange and unique ability. It's visual and visceral. And there is no one else on this planet that has the strength she has.

After being abducted by aliens, Chris discovered that he and his dog-child Soleil had become even more connected. They could share thoughts and exchange ideas. The two of them can thwart any crime by working together.

After being abducted by aliens, Chris discovered that he and his dog-child Soleil had become even more connected. They could share thoughts and exchange ideas. The two of them can thwart any crime by working together.

After the aliens left, Joe and Laura found they'd become an even stronger team than before. With Laura's ability to calculate and manipulate probability in favor of her allies and Joe's super-powered bowl, there isn't an enemy they can't knock out.

After the aliens left, Joe and Laura found they'd become an even stronger team than before. With Laura's ability to calculate and manipulate probability in favor of her allies and Joe's super-powered bowl, there isn't an enemy they can't knock out.

The aliens gave Bryanna the ability to almost instantly recreate any outfit she can visualize using any ordinary needle and thread. She can slip seamlessly into a police unit, or mimic centuries-old royal gowns. And, of course, she totally kills at …

The aliens gave Bryanna the ability to almost instantly recreate any outfit she can visualize using any ordinary needle and thread. She can slip seamlessly into a police unit, or mimic centuries-old royal gowns. And, of course, she totally kills at conventions.

The power bestowed on Zach by the aliens was that of a multitalented pied piper. Any instrument Zach can play, he can use to convey powerful (and sometimes crippling) emotions. His listeners can feel profound joy, or darkest sorrow, or paranoia so i…

The power bestowed on Zach by the aliens was that of a multitalented pied piper. Any instrument Zach can play, he can use to convey powerful (and sometimes crippling) emotions. His listeners can feel profound joy, or darkest sorrow, or paranoia so intense they hold on to the grass for fear of floating away. Sure, he could drive people into a rage using a simple plastic kazoo if he wanted. Instead, Zach uses his power to spread cheer and comradery wherever he goes.

The aliens gave Alejandra a playful gift. The creations she crochets come to life to assist her. Whether she needs a ride across town or a fuzzy but effective bodyguard for her adventures, Alejandra can whip out her needles and conjure a friendly fa…

The aliens gave Alejandra a playful gift. The creations she crochets come to life to assist her. Whether she needs a ride across town or a fuzzy but effective bodyguard for her adventures, Alejandra can whip out her needles and conjure a friendly familiar.

Whew! It's been a while since I drew actual people. Like, faces of people I know. Did you know I'm a bit face-blind? I'm generally good with friends and family (though I did recently fail to recognize my uncle, at whose business I currently work). But I don't remember faces as easily as many people do. I break down faces into 2-dimensional figures in my head, so if I see someone in a different angle than usual, I can be really thrown off. However, this mental "flattening" comes in handy when I draw faces. I'm told the above drawings match up pretty well with their subjects, but (ironically?) I can't really say for sure. Anyway. There's your Abi trivia for the day. And also an explanation in case I don't recognize you in public. 

One last thing! I've been crafting with my misprint copies of Necessaries

A big ol' wreath!

A big ol' wreath!

Magnets! And my parents' dog, Mowgli. 

Magnets! And my parents' dog, Mowgli. 

That's all for now, folks! Sorry it took me so long!