And recognizing the stigma of an indie author in the literary establishment.
Of course, we're a little insecure. I mean, after all, we've read the greats--and we know we can't compare--and we've read the NYTimes bestseller's list--and we know we simply can't get to that coveted spot without an agent and a publisher--and so we follow the routine that's existed for thousands of years: We write. Like an aristocrat in a field of Lillies, we write. We write, like a bored intellect, like the idle rich with none of the benefits. The indie author writes but without the means, convenience, and connections. Yet, we still write our story.
So why do we so often fail in getting the recognition we covet?
Yes, some of our writing sucks. But every artist sucked when they first started. Every. One. So is that it? No.
The reason we fail is because after writing our opus we then sit on our hands.
If we're gonna be so bold as to write a novel then we must commit to its story. Respect and revere and love your story and share it with all the world in all its honesty and truth and be naked in front of your audience. And, most important of all, PROMOTE it!
SELL the damn thing!
If you reject an opportunity to promote your work then you're negligent as an artist and a coward. Embrace your fucking work!