I’m not self published. I don’t reject the term because I am part of the paranoid fringe. I reject it because it has nothing to do with my process, my agreements, or what I do.
At one point I did use the terms “independent” or “indie” often. I’m not married to the phrase, but it pisses off ALL THE RIGHT PEOPLE. The term was, for a long time, used by small presses. Independently owned, one might say. But for the author, it never made sense (to me, at least). You aren’t doing this independently, you are with a publisher that calls itself independent. Even that seems, to me, a stretch— how many people working on a book at one time can count as “independent?”
But self-publishing? I don’t do it myself. I’m selling through amazon, BN, Smashwords, or another open submission site. I may format it, edit it, and write it—or sub-contract parts of the process out—but I damn sure don’t run the site or do the grunt work once it’s done.
Last week a group of writers who are largely New York pubbed—my local writer’s group, which is lucky to have a larger distinguished list than most—chitty chatted the topic. Many of the members who are signed with the big names are also doing some sel—err—indi--- err… publishing-by-themselves-through-just-as-big-means on the side. We came to an agreement, within the group, to use the term DIRECT PUBLISHED.
Direct published. Hmm. You know what? I really like that. It says what I want: I cut out the middle man, did the book on my own, and asked this big website/store/outlet to release it to the public. I went directly from my manuscript to the customer source without passing GO, collecting $200 (at least until some stuff starts selling), and avoided the Minotaur’s maze.
Direct Publishing… yeah… I dig that. I’m sort of a direct kind of gal.