This week marks my first appearance on Amazon, as a presumably bona-fide author. Having reached this point, I’m surprised about how much effort was involved that actually had nothing to do with writing. Or at least with that portion of writing that involves locking yourself into a secluded room and letting the creative juices pour out. Cover art, copy editing, tweaks, revisions, trying to comprehend megabyte-long end-user license agreements, website enhancements…. Until now, it’s all been about sharing with friends and family. But now, it’s like letting a bunch of strangers into my home. I feel a need to neaten up the place, and no longer think its reasonable to make excuses. The old “I’ll fix it in the next revision” doesn’t work anymore.

One thing about self-publishing that really feels nice is that it permits me to completely ignore ‘industry sensibilities’. If I get a writer’s forum critique saying that a particular piece isn’t the length that most markets are looking for, I can file it under ‘true, but not relevant.’

In The Long Tail, Chris Anderson talks about how The Net makes it possible for merchants with a narrow appeal to connect with customers who want to buy what they want to sell. In a world of more than seven billion, there are bound to be some folks who are interested in what I have to offer. After all, even dinosaur erotica seems to a hit these days.

But however broad or narrow the appeal of my art may be, I now feel a pressure to create more. As in “That’s nice, but what have you done for me lately?”

So back to the secluded room. I’m got a self-commitment to get Contributing to the Delinquency of a Minor out of the editing room and onto Amazon by the end of this month, so I’d better get to it!