This was initially posted on one of my favorite book blogs, Kate's Tales Of Books And Bands. Katelyn was kind enough to accept this as a guest post from me. Since it has been up for a while, I have decided to share it on my site as well. It explains why A Girl Named Willow Krimble is free.
Ever since I have offered A Girl Named Willow Krimble up on my web site for free, I cannot tell you how many times I have had to answer the following questions:
“Why would you just give it away on your site?”
“Why are your kindle and paperback versions priced so low?”
“Why did you donate copies to schools and libraries?”
“Why don’t you try to get published traditionally?”
“Why don’t you try getting a literary agent?”
The answer to all these questions is so simple:
I want everyone (yes, I ambitiously said, everyone) to read my story. As many people as possible: girls, boys, men, woman, middle graders, young adults, seniors, etc.
I won’t get into why I wrote Willow because you can read about that on my site.
Okay, so think about creating something – anything. A painting that you poured your own unique vision into, which started as a small spark that invaded your mind when you least expected it; or a delicious double-fudge anything that looks so mouth-watering you just gotta share it with friends; or how about a plant in your garden that started out as a seemingly insignificant seed and has slowly blossomed into the pride of your backyard. Let’s be clear on something: I’m not talking about bragging here. No, I’m referring to something that has brought you so much joy, you can’t possibly keep it to yourself.
Remember when you were 5, 6 or 7 years old? Alright, maybe you were 10 – whatever – when you created that picture in art class that you just knew your mom would keep forever? Did you say to your mom, “No, Mom, don’t hang that on the fridge, let’s charge people to look at it.” Alright, I’m being a bit overly-dramatic here to illustrate my point, but I’m proud to say that I am still that anxious little 7-year-old.
You see, before I wrote Willow, I never knew that I could. Not saying I’m a talented writer or even a good storyteller (you’ll have to judge that). I’m just saying, I wrote it. I wrote something no one else could because this particular story was only in me. Even if other stories out there deal with similar issues, even if they handle those issues better, this is my fictional tale, from my imagination, my vision, my heart. Aside from some very kind friends and family who helped with my horrific spelling and dubious grammatical skills, the story still came from me. Again – not being boastful, but I slowly seeped three years of my life into these characters, who I have fallen in love with, and I just want the world to love them as much as I do. Childish and corny? Maybe, but like I said, we shouldn’t change the way we choose to dream just because we grow older.
Let’s be honest; at first, I tried querying agents and publishers who represented books which reflected the genre and age-group of my novel, but to no avail. So after awhile, I had a choice to make: keep asking someone to believe in my story, so that they could sell it, or believe in my story enough to put it out there on my own – not to make a profit, not for bragging rights and certainly not to impress anyone. I created something that I loved so much, something that I had no idea I was capable of crafting, I didn’t want to keep it to myself another minute. Once I figured I could do all of the art myself (who would know what the images should represent better than the storyteller?), I put it all together and the rest is history – or the present, depending on how you see things.
I have never regretted my decision. When I receive a review from a stranger who is out of state, overseas, who has read and enjoyed my book, someone who not only likes it, but totally gets it, can relate to it, or tells me they’ve read it to their child, I never wonder for one second how much of a royalty payment I could have made.
Please do not think for a moment that I am knocking traditional publishing, literary agents, or royalty payments, for that matter. If someone offered me a deal that made sense, of course I would have to consider it, but consider this: I have my entire life to sell books. Right now … I just felt that I needed to share one.
Ever since I have offered A Girl Named Willow Krimble up on my web site for free, I cannot tell you how many times I have had to answer the following questions:
“Why would you just give it away on your site?”
“Why are your kindle and paperback versions priced so low?”
“Why did you donate copies to schools and libraries?”
“Why don’t you try to get published traditionally?”
“Why don’t you try getting a literary agent?”
The answer to all these questions is so simple:
I want everyone (yes, I ambitiously said, everyone) to read my story. As many people as possible: girls, boys, men, woman, middle graders, young adults, seniors, etc.
I won’t get into why I wrote Willow because you can read about that on my site.
Okay, so think about creating something – anything. A painting that you poured your own unique vision into, which started as a small spark that invaded your mind when you least expected it; or a delicious double-fudge anything that looks so mouth-watering you just gotta share it with friends; or how about a plant in your garden that started out as a seemingly insignificant seed and has slowly blossomed into the pride of your backyard. Let’s be clear on something: I’m not talking about bragging here. No, I’m referring to something that has brought you so much joy, you can’t possibly keep it to yourself.
Remember when you were 5, 6 or 7 years old? Alright, maybe you were 10 – whatever – when you created that picture in art class that you just knew your mom would keep forever? Did you say to your mom, “No, Mom, don’t hang that on the fridge, let’s charge people to look at it.” Alright, I’m being a bit overly-dramatic here to illustrate my point, but I’m proud to say that I am still that anxious little 7-year-old.
You see, before I wrote Willow, I never knew that I could. Not saying I’m a talented writer or even a good storyteller (you’ll have to judge that). I’m just saying, I wrote it. I wrote something no one else could because this particular story was only in me. Even if other stories out there deal with similar issues, even if they handle those issues better, this is my fictional tale, from my imagination, my vision, my heart. Aside from some very kind friends and family who helped with my horrific spelling and dubious grammatical skills, the story still came from me. Again – not being boastful, but I slowly seeped three years of my life into these characters, who I have fallen in love with, and I just want the world to love them as much as I do. Childish and corny? Maybe, but like I said, we shouldn’t change the way we choose to dream just because we grow older.
Let’s be honest; at first, I tried querying agents and publishers who represented books which reflected the genre and age-group of my novel, but to no avail. So after awhile, I had a choice to make: keep asking someone to believe in my story, so that they could sell it, or believe in my story enough to put it out there on my own – not to make a profit, not for bragging rights and certainly not to impress anyone. I created something that I loved so much, something that I had no idea I was capable of crafting, I didn’t want to keep it to myself another minute. Once I figured I could do all of the art myself (who would know what the images should represent better than the storyteller?), I put it all together and the rest is history – or the present, depending on how you see things.
I have never regretted my decision. When I receive a review from a stranger who is out of state, overseas, who has read and enjoyed my book, someone who not only likes it, but totally gets it, can relate to it, or tells me they’ve read it to their child, I never wonder for one second how much of a royalty payment I could have made.
Please do not think for a moment that I am knocking traditional publishing, literary agents, or royalty payments, for that matter. If someone offered me a deal that made sense, of course I would have to consider it, but consider this: I have my entire life to sell books. Right now … I just felt that I needed to share one.
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