23 December, 2013
An old friend happened to call this morning to ask about converting into ebooks some slim volumes he self-published a couple of years ago (in Paris, how romantic, sitting in a café over wine with an Algerian cover designer). He’s been writing poetry and short stories for forty years, though he’s been slowly transitioning his focus into three-dimensional art.
The conversation started from scratch, though he’d done a bit of online research. I had to straighten him out about which “author support” companies are rip-offs (you know who you are), and give him the options he’s facing: Smashwords, Bookbaby, KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing), or doing it himself using Scrivener. (I’ve heard rumors that there’s a new software product just come out that allows converting to all the different electronic languages yourself and seeing how they’ll look on different ereader devices. Maybe someone reading will know the name and leave a Comment to inform the rest of us.)
As we delved into the ideas and intimations that sparked out randomly (Curiosity and Creativity are at the heart of early-in-the-process editorial conversations), I heard something he had not yet articulated: he felt a responsibility to not let the time and effort that went into all his writing wither in a corner of his attic studio (how Parisian). And a responsibility to his Muse – physical circumstances, the imaginal corners of the mind, the safety and support of all those who give us the freedom to write, the intimations of passing moments that we cannot forget, the passion that begets commitment. (Please, Reader, add your own perspective on The Muse.)
What I saw was his desire for An Archive of his work. A place for both his writing and his artwork. In a sense, to create a repository of his legacy. But it has practical aspects too: If he’s at a gallery opening that includes one of his pieces, he can hand someone his business card with a QR code, and they can immediately be on his website looking at his other pieces and the scope of his writing (with links to purchase or download). It’s Marketing 121 (vs. 101): the personal enticement through schmoozing.
That’s what I love about my work – so many opportunities to let my unfettered mind reflect with clients about the seed behind the intention. To clarify what has been coming from the Muse only in soft focus. To identify the passion of the project. To discern what the world/market needs from the concept.
Until next time, delight in the process.
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This reminds me of a quote I have seen attributed, perhaps wrongly, to my writing friend Ernie, aka Papa: “Deep within the heart of every man beats a great novel… and that is where it should stay.”
That is one way to look at it, Joel, but the very process of bringing intuitions and intimations and barely recognized feelings through the process of discrimination, clarification, and inquiry into their meaning in one’s life is a potent and soul-enhancing activity. That doesn’t mean it’s worth asking other people to read it, but posting it in an archival website is akin to leaving a journal for anyone who is interested in you to delve into.
You don’t have to post every thought to have an interesting “on-line journal.” But people like to know what an “artist” is all about. The person that paints that picture the way they did, what are they like?
Why did that poem come out the way it did, what was behind it, what were they thinking? So, if a person kept an online journal with responses like that it might be good for sales. Just sayin’.
Hazel