All right. I don't know where my "hackles" are, but they're raised.
I'm pissed. Vexed. Hot. Fuming.
A certain literary agent has suggested those "self-publishing" are doing it for selfish reasons and don't care about readers at all. You can read the whole ugly post here.
You couldn't be more wrong, Ms. High and Mighty, AKA protector of the weak, innocent reader. My God, what would readers do without big, tough literary agents guarding their reading time (and dollars)?
Here's the best part:
"My conclusion: This trend toward self-publishing serves primarily the writer.
(Not readers and not the publishing industry as a whole.)"
Oh--that's right, because it's my f*cking job to serve the publishing industry. I forgot. *smacks head* I'm supposed to work for free for years to try and squeak through the needle's eye until the great gate-keeping elite think they can properly profit from my free labor.
Yes, do you see that little word: profit. Because publishers are in this business to make money. Not "protect" readers.
I'm sick of the hypocrisy of a system which would publish Snooki's trash and then pretend to be a protector of readers. Sick of it. Stop lying to me. Stop lying to the public. Stop lying to readers.
You know who cares more about readers than you, giant publishing machine? Writers do--all of them, whether "traditionally" published or indie or whatever. I like how we've decided the indentured servant model of publishing is "traditional". Back in Ben Franklin's day, anyone who owned a printing press was published. Don't play word games until you know a little history.
But wait--I'm not the one who has to prove I care about readers. I'm not the one readers are questioning, am I?
Every story I write is a love-letter to storytelling.
Go climb back in your stupid castle and shut the gate. We heathens will sit around our campfires and tell stories well into the night--as it should be.