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Dissolution

Here is a good word for you: dissolution.

It means is the end of a relationship or contract. What it means to me is that Antiartists is no longer being published by Pen Name Publishing.

And I am-

I-

Look, it took me a long time to adopt the word writer when describing myself, because I think it is one of those words that come with a lot of baggage.  I don't like term as a title, because I believe people are too ready to adopt it as their own because it gives then a sense of accomplishment or importance or mystery, and there is no other word that distinguishes between a hobbyist knocking out a couple hundred words every other month if they remember, and someone like myself that has put significant parts of their life into the craft.  We are both writers, and I understand that, but let's be real here, okay? There are writers, and there are writers, and for sure there are good and bad examples of both, but I am one and not the other and there is no word to distinguish between the two.

Actually, check that.  There is a word, now that I think of it.  

Author.

I do consider myself to be an author, in that I have written a novel that was accepted for publication by a publishing house and it was produced and launched, and I did a couple interviews and we had cake and fireworks.  

One day, I got a box full of copies of the novel that I wrote in the mail, and I stood there for a quiet moment just looking at them there snuggled in the packaging, and then I picked one up and I held it in my hand, and it smelled like a new book, and it was solid and it had weight, and up to that point I had signed documents and edited and negotiated and discussed and planned, but it wasn't until that quiet moment standing by the front door of my house holding the book that I wrote that I believed I was truly an author.

And I get it, okay, I have a couple books that I have written that are in various states of ready-for-publication-ness, and I know that I am still an author, regardless of the status of my first novel. 

But still.

There is this thing that happens now that maybe didn't happen to authors of the past, where if it ever comes to light that you have written a novel, the first thing someone often asks is "Oh yeah?  Self published?"

I believe in self publishing, I really do.  There are a ton of excellent authors that decide to go that route, and I swing back and forth myself about my new book.  It is a valid path to finding an audience and getting your work out there.  I will have self published books eventually as well.  I am NOT shitting on self publishing here, I swear.  

But there is a sense of legitimacy that comes with having a publishing house, even a small, relatively unknown one like PNP, where I could say "No, I have a publisher."  It's ego, flavored with a bit of asshole snobbery, I understand.  But there is no way that I know of to survive the knocks that this industry can give you with out a fair bit of ego.  You can only be rejected so many times, have your work shit on so many times.  If you didn't have that ego, you would quit for good.  

I can swing wildly between I am a goddamn literary genius to I am a shitty hack in a single day, hell, in an hour.

Dissolution.

What it means in a practical sense is that all of the rights to Antiartists have reverted back to me, and I can do with it what I will.  

It is a good book, one that says what I wanted it to say, and says it as hard and as real as I could say it.  I wrote the book that I wanted to read, that I needed to write.  It is good, and that ain't just ego talking.

And now it is homeless.

I will ultimately probably put it up on KDP just so it is available for anyone who wants one, but there will be no cake and no fireworks this time, and no interviews, because there is nothing more to say about it. 

Today is both the end, and the beginning. Like all days, I suppose.

I am still an author, and that is enough, for today, at least.

Still Writing, 

RP    
1-16-19
    

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