I will not subject you to the song from The Monkeys.

I’ve had this song on repeat a lot lately. It’s become my mantra.

We were watching The Daily Show the other day, because that’s how we get our news because other cable news makes me sad and seeing what a horrid state the world is in without some sattire would just depress me…more. Anyway, the guest for the evening was Condoleezza Rice. As I watched, I was impressed and awed with her ability to field questions, to explain her actions, and to never apologize for her decisions.

It wasn’t a matter of whether or not I agreed with her, what impressed me was her conviction. She does things because she believes.

Spending so much of my time in blog-land, especially writing-blog-land (it’s a suburb, it’s a quaint, eccentric one.) , I read a lot about different publishing methods. Some people have decide to self-publish, some people only want to work through an agent. Some people want to try different paths and see what works better. Some expectations are unrealistic and some expectations are so very real it hurts to see the truth of them.

I had another a-ha moment yesterday that told me I’m not just a ‘traditional route’ person, I’m actually a believer. I got a rejection letter, which isn’t new for me at all at this point. I mean, I’m not at 100 or 200, but I’m creeping up on it. This one was different though because it gave me the wonderful and unique opportunity to read a literary agent’s honest thoughts on my query letter. Why she passed, what was missing, fantastic stuff.

So that’s the logical side of me.

Here’s the emotional side of me: Oh my hell! Why can’t I even get the query letter right? It sounds interesting to me, what’s wrong with other people that they can’t see my vision? Why won’t they just read? It’s a damn good story and I bled and sweated and cried for this, and my friends like it and…

And that’s where I shut the emotional part of me off and walk away for a little bit.

Along with those thoughts come thoughts like “I could self-publish this. I’ve worked hard. It deserves to see daylight. I know how to market. How to sell. How to reach people through social media. I mean, it takes a asston of work, but…it’s my book.”

Before I go any further, I should say I think self-publishing is right for some people. I’ve read some books lately that were absolutely amazing. I’ve also read some that were crap. Both traditioanlly and self-published. I picked up one at Borders because they were closing and it was cheap. And I almost wept at how bad it was and didn’t make it past chapter 3.

However, as all these thoughts flitted through my head yesterday I had some revelations. Like I said, along the lines of realizing I was a believer.

And this goes back to why we write. I write to purge the voices in my head. It’s that simple. If that’s why I write, then there’s no need to be published, right? I’ve purged the voices, and I can move on.

But why I write is not why I feel driven to be published. I’m driven to be published because I want people to want to hear what I have to say.

It’s a complicated statement on purpose. It starts with “I want to be heard”. Except it’s not that simple. “I want my personal thoughts and views to be heard.” But it’s more complicated than that. Because I don’t think anyone should have to listen if they’re not interested. It’s why I blog. You’re here and reading because you want to be. I didn’t force you to be (I hope…if you’re here out of obligation, I’m very sorry and I ask you to walk away and there will be no hard feelings). I can say what I want and only the people who want to hear it will read it.

It’s the same thing with my books. I don’t want you to read it because you know me. Because I read your book. Because you support all authors regardless of what kind of insecurities their female leads have that require them to lean on masogonystic male leads and supress themselves to the point of anti-arcing (is that a thing?)

I want you to read it because you want to read it. Because you enjoy the story. Because you feel for the characters. Because something drew you in and captivated you.

I crave an audience. But only a willing one. I want to be heard, but only if you want to listen.

And that’s why if I still can’t nail a query letter that draws interest, if I still can’t polish my first five pages to the point where people say “Holy wow, where’s the rest?” then I haven’t accomplished my goal. I won’t draw satisfaction from knowing my baby is in print just because I know how to format for Kindle (which…not as hard as I thought it would be). Every time someone does read one of my stories and says “I loved this, regardless of the nitpicks I have”, I feel a sense of accomplishment.

And so even though sometimes people fall through the cracks, even though the system isn’t perfect and fantastic stories get rejected everyday, I’m a believer in the publishing system. I have very little faith in general, but I trust that the professionals got where they are because they have taste, instinct, and a love for the art.

Does that make me dellusional? Maybe. But honestly, say nine out of ten people say “I don’t understand penumbra” and the last one says “this is cool, pass me some Doritos, I am sooo stoned”. If my response is “They’re just jealous/stupid/dim/jumping on the bandwagon/lemmings…normal people will love this as it is because my friends do”, does that make me any less dellusional?

Once again, I’m not knocking any type of publishing.  Goodbye, Goddess, Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes, and Dragons Forever – Born to be a Dragon are three of the best books I’ve read recently, all self-published by amazing authors.

I’m just saying, it wouldn’t sate the demons that drive me personally.

Maybe nothing will. I may have set unrealistic expectations. But right now it’s too early to surrender to that possibility. After all, I’m still breathing.