I’m an Indie Author!

We do it for love before we do it for money.

I decided to call myself and indie author instead of self-published. Indie puts one in the same circles as indie filmmakers and musicians. Those folks are viewed as adventurous and risk-takers, and buckers of the system. They have the aura of mystique and are held in awe by anyone who ever wished they could break out of the mold.We all put our vision into the medium we love or can use the best, then spend a lot of our own time and our own money to get it out into the world.

Some of us go to school to learn to do what we love, others learn as we go. We learn the rules and break them when it makes sense to us. We talk to others who do the same thing. We form friendships and networks in real life and on the internet. We share experiences and tips and resources and encouragement.

Fans of indie artists want to be ones who “knew him when he published his first book online,” or, “saw their show at a little pub years before they signed with that big record label.” (I don’t even know what big record labels there are anymore!) Or, “I saw her first film at the local film festival and stayed for the question and answer part.”

Sometimes fans of indies want their discoveries to stay indie, to not sell out to the labels and studios and publishers. I imagine most indies want to get noticed by some big entity so we can do what we love full time and have someone else manage the business end while we do the creative part. And I suppose a lot of us hope someday we can have the money that goes with being on the top of the heap.

Most of us know that probably won’t happen. That we’ll labor in obscurity, doing what we love. But some people get noticed and get that lucky break or know how to put themselves in front to the right people at the right time and place. They work hard and have everything in place and are ready.

I’ve never been happy doing things the same way as most people. Maybe that’s just because I never really figured out how! I’m proud to be indie and proud of my friends who are.

Now, back to work to get ready for that lucky break…

One Good Thing About a Full Time Job


–besides a paycheck.

Stress.

When I worked full time, I had limited time to write. I would dream about writing at work, wish I could turn off the 35 children I was trying to teach and tune in to my novel’s characters.

Now, I have ALL day, minus time to job search, which I should be doing more of. I’ll look at my work in progress, then stare at it, then look at Facebook (again) and Twitter (again) and play Mahjong (again). For some new and different procrastination technique, I could figure out the wonders of Google + which I’ve joined. It’s something about circles.

Stress from the job made me want to escape real life. It fed my creative energy and my motivation to dream and do something to hopefully get me out of the need of a “real” job. Now I don’t have that. Might be coming soon, as we run out of money.

I like staying home too much. Our house is small and comfortable, slightly untidy and lived in. I like hiding away, especially in this hellish summer heat. It doesn’t bother me if the only time I open the door is to get the mail or take the trash out. We go to church on Sunday. Isn’t that enough out for a introverted dork like myself? Well, maybe not.

There were other good things about my job. I loved the kids-a few at a time. And I did have some good times with whole classes and I think one or two kids actually learned something, even if it didn’t show up on the AIMS test. I worked with some good people, too. People I will miss.

The structure the job gave my day was useful. I’m a “whatever, whenever” kind of gal. I’ll go to sleep whenever, day or night, cook food whenever. Write whenever, wear whatever when I’m hanging around home. Working told me “If you want to write, you have to do it between these hours, and no, you can’t stay up until two just because your muse wants to.” So, I wrote during those hours. I needed to. My sanity depended on it. And that’s not much of an overstatement.

My husband works nights and his four workdays vary every week. He doesn’t sleep for six or seven or eight hours straight. He’ll get up late morning, go back to bed in the afternoon and wake up again in the evening. That doesn’t help either one of us. About the only regular thing we’ve been doing is watching the Diamondbacks in the evening.

I need external expectations to help me be productive and I don’t really like that. I’m kind of wishing I could come up with a series of gigs to make money, different jobs to challenge my mind, meet new people and learn new skills. But if I can’t structure myself to be productive, I’m setting myself up for trouble and failure.

Or possibly, as far as my novel goes, maybe I’m scared to finish it and put it out there for e-sale or to be rejected by agents. Maybe I’m afraid it will be good and I’ll have succeeded at something and make a little money and be compelled to do it again.

I have the time I dreamed of. Now, I have to learn to be productive and use it wisely.