Indie Publishing--an Analogy

(Loudly blowing horn. . .)

I'm an "Indie Publisher".  That covers a lot of ground:  self-published, Kindle, Smashwords, Indie Press and others.  It was a combination of impatience and snobbery that led me down that path.  I don't even fit the amorphous indie model.  I write street language, infidelity, God dropping in for an occasional remark or two.  But it's good.  It's light, fast, fun, irreverent, sexy and not dirty.  I don't think a good BJ scene has to be dirty, with a lot of slobbering,  romantic over-the-top description of the penis,  submissive behavior, and a bossy guy to be realistic or good or sexy.  I'm probably one of  a very few that can write a sexy BJ scene that is nice.  Lora Leigh's are f-ing scary.  Rate 'em.

And then when the rejection letters came filled with poor grammar, misspellings, missing words, (fill in the blank in their form letters where they could not bother to fill in the blank) and obvious signs that they never looked at the work, well, I love you, Betsy, but fuck 'em.

So a new track ball on the desktop pc, a new laptop, and an illness have kept me away from my creative endeavors and I have been watching movies. Last night I fell asleep watching Teeth which was about vagina dentata and sucked, which I realize is an oxymoron. But, when I woke, I was wide awake and it was quite late so I surfed Starz On Demand, and started to watch The Cleaner. Did you ever hear of it? I haven't.  Samuel L. Jackson, who has been in some turkeys, but was doing an excellent job of being Samuel L. Jackson, always his best role.  That beautifully aging fox, Ed Harris.  Complex plot. Little straggling octopus threads grabbing you right off.  Good subplot with Jackson's daughter, not thrown in, important, interesting. You know how in Transporter Jason Statham goes up to the wrought iron gate of the manse and it's what's her name --Amber Valletta?-- and it rates him a huge cardboard statue in the theater lobby?  Well, Jackson goes up to the wrought iron gate and it is Eva Mendez doing her usual wooden Barbie thing, but being very beautiful and just interesting to watch, but no cardboard statue for Jackson.  Alicia Silverstone as Jackson's office manager looking better than she ever did, (needed a little more of her acerbic commentary here).

So here's my point.  They have algorithms.  And Alvin and the Chipmunks gets the play, the licensing, the press. Pirates of the Caribbean--you see how much those fucking Legos cost.  Cleaner gets shit.  Probably went straight to Video.

I write The Cleaner of love stories.  Lora Leigh writes the Alvin and the Chipmunks or The Transporter of love stories. Harlequin Press has its algorithms, probably constructed by the same programmer that said Alvin and the Chipmunks would make millions.  I walked the walk.  Alvin didn't. We can't fit any agent's algorithm.  Too bad for them.  A couple of four star reviews by strangers that indicate they actually got what I was writing tell me I did good.  Maybe not for the fans of The Tortured Love of the Troubled Duke or Alvin, but good enough to appeal to the same people that surf for a good movie to watch--and occasionally find one. Maybe not great, but good.  And enjoyable.  I got more than 900 downloads from Barnes and Noble for my Lawman freebie and 21 of those people bothered to rate it so far, and some were four stars. I can still walk the walk. Pay attention to my name.

I am feeling waaay better, and I told you you were gonna get it.