If you are not familiar with my books, that is quite understandable. According to Prairie Home Companion author and humorist, Garrison Keillor, I am one of those who fit into a literary category he humorously describes as “the 18 million self-published authors in America, each with 14 readers, eight of whom are blood relatives and have average annual earnings of $1.75.”
Keillor light-heartedly laments that self-publishing marks the end of an era in book publishing, along with its tortured geniuses. I don’t argue with some of his facts, but I do take humble (if I do say so myself) exception to his seeming position that only celebrated writers have the right to take satisfaction from their writing efforts. 🙂
Although I spent my business career as a traveling salesman in the least known, but most commonly used medium of advertising (promotional products) in this country, my outside interest has always been writing. The first of the eight books I have written over the past 18 years came before the advent of print-on-demand publishing. In that effort I invested (my late wife preferred the word “blew”) $20,000 to produce 3,000 copies of a secular thriller. Five years later I had personally sold 1,500 copies while joyfully giving away another 1,500 copies. Admittedly, had I not also sold eight full pages of advertising in the back of my novel at $1,000 a page, I would never have earned my destined $1.75!
I have not written and self-published any of my books with the expectation of actually making a profit, although that would be welcome. Each of my stories wanted to be told, although for different reasons. For example, in the process of writing my second novel—The Foursome—research led me to read the Bible through in order to intellectually understand the born-again faith of the story’s believer. In that process God revealed Himself to me (see my Personal Testimony page). Thus, at age 58 I began following a calling to write Christian books exclusively, mostly novels with genres ranging from faith and marriage to historical fiction and even science fiction; not to mention that sporting genre of young and old alike, golf.
I obviously derive great pleasure in writing for the 14 readers who buy each of my books, and I invite you to be one of those astute few! Certainly, Garrison Keillor’s tortured American genius writers will not be in danger of having to share in their martyrdom! Between you and me, however, I am willing to bet there is at least one would-be writer in Keillor’s Lake Wobegon who is aching to share with his family and six friends a written tale about the record Walleyed Pike he nearly caught and ate.