Congratulations to tenantofwildfel, who was selected by random.org to win a free book in yesterday’s giveaway!

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Today’s musing was sparked by Catherine Hellisen’s post here wherein she talks about how selling a book to a major publisher does not, in fact, make you better than someone who sold to a small press or self-published or writes in that other genre or even that person who sold to Publish America.

All of which is absolutely true.

That said, there are assumptions I can and do make about stories based on where and how they were published…

• If your book is published by DAW (my publisher) or another major publisher, I assume that someone liked your book and thought it would sell well enough to offer you thousands of dollars up front for the right to publish it.
• If your book is published by a small press, I assume someone liked it and thought it would sell well enough to invest their time, money, and resources in publishing it.
• If your book is self-published, I assume you can finish a novel manuscript book and follow the instructions to upload it to Amazon, B&N, etc.
• If your book is published by a vanity press, I assume you can finish a novel book.
• If your book is published by Publish America, I assume you can finish a novel book and either have no interest in doing any research whatsoever, or else you simply refuse to listen when others share their experience and warnings.

There are others, of course. For example, in categories one and often two (depending on which small press), I assume the book was probably edited, professionally typeset, and so on.

I believe these are reasonable assumptions. None of them are judgments on an author or his/her particular story. Nowhere do I assume that your book bites the wax tadpole.

However, from my own reading experience, I know that the odds of me tossing a self-published or micropress book aside unfinished are much higher than the odds of doing the same with a book from a major publisher. Does that mean I can pick up a random self-published book and declare it to be crap without reading? Of course not. But if you give me a choice between a Tor book and a self-published book, then all else being equal, I’ll pick up the Tor. Because historically, those books have been more enjoyable to me.

Does getting a deal with Tor make you a better person? Not at all. Tor publishes assholes just like any other publisher.

Does it make you a better writer? Nope. Writing better stories makes you a better writer.

But are my odds of finding good stories higher with a major publisher’s titles than with Publish America’s list? Without a doubt.

Any questions?

I’ll close with one last judgment. If you say “There’s no such thing as a good or bad story; it’s nothing but personal preference!” then I’ll judge you to be either naive or silly, and sentence you to thirty days mining slush for a publisher.

Discussion and debate are welcome, as always.

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ETA: Tweaked the wording for my assumptions, since “book” is more inclusive and accurate than “novel.” Thanks, serialbabbler.

I spent Saturday at the Ann Arbor Book Festival, where I presented a workshop on Research and Writing What You Know Knowing What You Write, talked briefly about social networking, ate good food, crashed a few other workshops, and participated in a sampler-style reading.

The reading was interesting. There were ten or so people who each read for five minutes. I was scheduled to go between two intense, passionate, powerful poets, at which point I got up on stage … and read a scene from my muppet werewolf story.

That moment summarizes my day pretty well. The two workshops I attended were poetry-oriented. Most of the guest authors were introduced with an impressive list of literary and poetry credits. And then there was me, who made his first professional sale with “Blade of the Bunny.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt insecure about my writing, or about reading one of my stories in front of people.

Many of these poets were reading performing incredibly personal, energizing works. Quite a few focused on race. Most of the poems blew my mind. And then there was me, reading a scene in which a muppet freaks out and blows away Tommy the Tuba.

For the record, my muppet werewolf story kicks ass … but in a totally different way than the poems from Angel Nafis or Roger Bonair-Agard or francine j. harris or Karrie Waarala.

When I posted on Facebook, a few people were quick to reassure me that they’d rather hear muppet werewolves than poetry any day. Which is nice, I guess … I mean, I’m glad my friends and fans prefer the kind of stuff I write, right?

Most of the events I do are with “my own kind,” things like SF/F conventions where we’re all there to celebrate the same genre. Or signings/readings where it’s just me and my fans. From a promotional standpoint, this makes sense — these are the people who are most likely to buy and enjoy my work, after all.

But having my fantasy-writing ass dropped into the intersection of Literary Ave and Poet St, Ann Arbor, was a damn good thing. Those workshops I mentioned? I wrote a half-page piece that’s somewhere between prose and poetry that almost made me cry to read. (Can’t share it here, because it’s about the kids.) I wrote a bit for Libriomancer that, if I can remember and repeat the lesson I learned, should help me accomplish exactly what I’ve been trying to do for six months now.

Was Saturday uncomfortable at times? Hell, yes. But it was powerful and eye-opening and awesome, too.

I’m told people enjoyed my reading, and my workshop went over quite well. (I totally packed that room!) What I didn’t expect was how much I’d get out of the day, and out of the diversity of writers and writing I got to experience. My thanks to Jeff Kass and Margaret Yang for letting me be a part of it, and to everyone else who participated and made it such a great day.