The Indie Author’s Argument

Me, hard at work.

Why am I an Indie author? Why didn’t I just publish my work with a traditional publisher?

Because traditional publishers kinda thumb their nose at work like mine. Genre-defying, weird-fiction, best-seller-wannabes like me don’t exactly reel in the big dough. I don’t write for a marketing team; I am not a brand or a logo; I’m not a big name. You don’t wanna get mixed up with a guy like me; I’m a loner Dottie . . . a rebel. (And I’ll quote Pee Wee’s Big Adventure at you a second time if you argue with me; I know you are, but what am I?)

I’m what many people politely refer to as “all over the place.” I dabble in multiple genres. I play with wordplay. Heck, I even enjoy playing with Claude from Anthropic because it’s so good at man-handling my authorial voice. I didn’t go with a trad publisher because, well, none of them would sign me. See “place, all over the.”

So, I embarked into the jungles of the publishing biz with my trusty weedwhacker and dug in for the long haul. I’m not here to become famous (HE LIES, PRECIOUS! Nasty, Tricksy, false Hobbitses.) Or to change the world. (LIES! HOBBITSES!) — and I’ll bet you just read that in Andy Serkis’s voice, didn’t you? I know you did. But, anyway, I digress.

Basically, no trad publisher will even dare to sign a guy who dabbles in multiple genres, at least not if he dabbles in them all under the same name. (Stephen King famously created the “Richard Bachman” alter-ego in the 1980’s so he could write whatever he wanted outside the horror genre. But that’s just not my bag, baby.) And I do. I dare to defy the marketing gods. Maybe someday more people will notice the absolutely batshit genius of my work here, and will pluck me from obscurity in order to plaster my ugly mug on billboards across the nation, and offer to sell my fiction to the masses. Not very likely . . . but I like to lean on possibilities. (Yeah, and Zack Snyder will get rehired by DC studios. And monkeys might fly outta my butt.)