There’s a revolution going on in the publishing world. In just a few short years, e-book sales, especially in the romance genre, have climbed to almost fifty percent of the market. Brick and mortar book stores are closing, and those remaining are limiting their book shelf space. And authors are proudly publishing their own books.
When I first started writing, self-publishing was called
‘vanity’ publishing. If a writer was desperate enough to see her name on a book
cover, she (or he) could pay to have their book printed, and sell it out of the
trunk of their car. But these writers were not considered ‘real’ authors. A ‘serious’
writer waited months, years, to hear back from some New York publishing house hoping
to win the brass ring—a publishing contract.
I was one of those few. I sold the first book I ever
submitted to the first house I sent it to. Lucky? Absolutely. Sure, I had a
good book. But I was also in the right place at the right time. A new line was
opening, and I just happened to have a book that fit it.
