When I first was considering self publishing or “going indie,” I was worried about the stigma. I was concerned that readers would “find out” and then not read my books or not give them a chance based on the misconception that if I self published it must have been “a last resort,” or that I didn’t “respect the editing process,” or that “my writing must suck.” (The first two are definitely not true for me. I leave the third for the reader to decide.)

Over time I came to learn that with so many small imprints out there and so few readers having a clue of who publishes what, what gives a self published work “stigma” is “looking self published.” If the cover looks like the covers of other books in the genre, and not homemade, if the editing is good, if the layout is good, if everything looks “right” and is up to publishable standards, no one knows, or really cares one way or the other who the publisher is.

My attitudes toward publishing, self or otherwise, when it comes to fiction have shifted in a way that I find very very freeing. And it took me sitting back and realizing how enmeshed I was in “publishing culture.” When you’re enmeshed in one culture, it’s easy to think that somehow the entire world feels a certain way about a topic. Or that there is a “right way” or a “wrong way” to feel about that topic.

I experienced this earlier with being raised in fundamentalist religion. When I hit my early twenties and left, it was a truly surreal experience, coming out of religion to find that most non-religious people weren’t evil. They just had different beliefs, either because they were raised with a different set of beliefs, or because they’d gone through the long soul-searching process of figuring out exactly what “they” believed about the world around them and it ended up conflicting with what they were raised with. A person’s goodness or badness had very little to do with their religious beliefs usually. Though many have used religion to justify abhorrent behavior, and sometimes ‘lack of religion’ to do the same.

I went through a lot of different emotionally intense phases on my way to figuring out my own personal beliefs. Anger and debate was part of the experience, a very common part. It was a difficult emotional journey for me (and for Tom because he had to live with me during all this upheaval), but it was worth it because in the end I was able to become free from many expectations and beliefs that really had no benefit to me at all, and were much more harmful than helpful.

I learned a valuable lesson. That you have to be who you are, and seek out those who either agree with that position or at least can respect it. Those who look on you with disdain for thoughts and ideas that aren’t crimes, aren’t really your friends. And with a world filled with so many divergent opinions and viewpoints, what makes one person’s view worth sacrificing your own ideals and identity for? That’s the $64,000 question.

I think a lot of us do sacrifice big parts of who we are and how we feel in order to “fit in.” But to fit in with who or what? No matter what your likes and dislikes, or thoughts and feelings, there are other people like you out there and likewise, there are people who disagree with you out there. So who do you want to please? The key is to find those of like mind, rather than constantly butting your head against those who aren’t.

Another lesson I’ve had to learn and am still in the process of learning is, “disagreement doesn’t require debate.” I don’t have to turn my blog, or any other venue I post in, into a debate forum. Two people with different views can share those different views without arguing them, if they don’t feel like it, or without feeling like the other person’s views somehow invalidated them. They don’t. There isn’t really a way for one person’s opinion to invalidate another person’s opinion.

No matter what you stand for or think or do, on anything from religion, to sex, to publishing, to decorating, to family life, there will be someone who thinks you are wrong and somehow tearing at the fabric of society or at least their own personal comfort zone. Want to have kids? Someone will have something negative to say about it. Want to abstain from procreation? Someone will have something negative to say about it? Want to self publish? Want to traditionally publish? Go to church? Don’t go to church? Democrat? Republican? Libertarian? Green Party? The list goes on and on.

When I de-converted from the “cult of publishing” (the idea that there is a “right” and “wrong” way to publish, along with all the stigmas and assumptions of those who do it “wrong”) I went through a similar, though much shorter process than I did when I de-converted from my religion of birth. I had come up as a writer with a certain set of assumptions about what would validate me as a writer and what would make me “real.” And a certain set of assumptions about the “right way” to go about writing and publishing fiction.

Of course, those assumptions started when I actually believed most NY published authors could make a living writing novels. When I found out it’s pretty rare, even among NY published authors, to make a full living wage just from writing novels, I was well on my way to self publishing, because if the odds were against me making great money doing it, I didn’t see a reason to seek to make a “career” out of it.

Now, with discovering copywriting and finding myself happy to do that for money, and secure knowing that there *is* money to be made in that type of writing for almost anyone who is good, reliable, and markets themselves, suddenly my attitudes toward self publishing have shifted again.

I like being able to say I’m an indie now. Writer’s digest just published a special self-publishing edition which was actually pretty favorable toward self-publishing. The world and attitudes are shifting on this matter, but even if they weren’t, I’ve shifted. I love that all my work is in my hands now.

I can write exactly the stories I want. It doesn’t matter how “marketable” someone else has deemed them, because they aren’t my bread and butter. I get to choose my own editors. Never will a book of mine enter the world with any content I didn’t approve. (Big responsibility, but big thrill too.) Never will I have a cover I’m not in love with. Never will I have to write fiction on someone else’s deadlines.

I wish I could share this with everyone (much how I felt about the freedom I felt upon de-conversion), but just like with that experience I have to understand that self publishing doesn’t make everyone feel free. Some are more comfortable with the old guard, and some feel the only way they can reach their dreams is with the old guard. And frankly, some just don’t have time to do anything but the old guard.

So this is the part where I find myself more secure and happy in my choice, and try to resist the urge to debate with others who don’t find themselves in the same mental place. Because getting to the point of apathy about other people’s choices is the only way I know to be free in this world. Because you can’t change people, you can only change yourself.