But like any summer storm, it soon dissipates, and the grass glistens white with dew.
Some thoughts on publishing in recent years
I try to keep my professional life in publishing separate from my day job, and even my writing. Yet, there are times when they certainly overlap. All of these books on the table above have passed by my eyes and hands. I’m responsible for creating others’ dreams a reality. With that, comes great responsibility and, lately, a carnal fear of the unknown.
There’s always a lingering tardigrade on my shoulder. “What if this all ends?” it whispers to me on occasion. “What if you’re not good enough to do more? Josh, what if all you’ve done isn’t good enough?” Sometimes, I can shrug these off. My therapist calls them “sticky thoughts.” I’d be damned if I stick a post-it note of my deepest fears on my forehead for days on end. Yet, these thoughts and tardigrades aren’t all in my head. I can see the evolutions, and even degradations, happening, almost in real-time.
As I approach the 8th year anniversary of Thirty West this November, it makes me wonder how much left I can handle. We are but one press in an increasingly eclectic publishing ecosystem. Especially in the last couple of years. The COVID-19 pandemic created many special presses and journals. However, some closed down, with no plans to ever return. Fortunately for TW, we adapted and grew stronger. The best year in press history was 2022. Some of that carried over in early 2023, with larger expectations. Since writing this, I brought TW to another festival, with a couple more booked or planned. One would think I’m in great shape, right?
There are times when I try my best to be a marketeer and proud business owner in front of strangers. Sometimes, I make a breakthrough and cascade my enthusiasm onto new readers. Yet, there are times when I get overlooked. Dismissive, apprehensive glances from festival-goers can be deflating at times. Over the years, I’ve learned how to gauge one’s desire to actually purchase our books. I also learned that some people are just looking for freebies, regardless of what I vend. Do I take it personally? Not always. I am human after all, and these books are laboriously crafted. Some people will not be able to comprehend my wares and skills, and that’s something I can’t fixate on.
As I write this in late July, I suspect that I, and even TW, may be approaching an event horizon that can’t be escaped. For example, being one of dozens of other small presses can be tricky. I like to be friendly and professional with some, but I certainly cannot be friends with everyone. Those who publish & champion the literary icons of tomorrow, may find their niche—their audience—and cast aside any outsiders. We all have different starting points, strengths, and weaknesses. No matter how I see it, there will always be someone who’s worse & better off than me. These constant comparisons and contrasts makes me question why I even started. Does the 2023 market even care about hand-made chapbooks when there’re witty Twitter accounts that scoop all the engagement? There’s more than that, however.
You likely are aware of how AI-formulated writing has been decimating the creative world. There is now a potential for an AI-produced manuscript makes it to my desk and manages to get approved. It’s scary to think about the moral and public repercussions. Is it solely up to me to vet plagiarists and AI-generated manuscripts Thankfully, the larger powers that be are on top of things. The SAG-AFTRA & WGA strike has been the leading resistance against the digital onslaught of creative and intellectual property. Let’s hope they succeed and enlighten those greedy corporate overlords the downfalls of disingenuous, cheaply-constructed artwork.
Here’s something I learned. Say that I can be 100% original and genuine in the art of publishing. There’s always going to be the market and all its flaws and competition. Amazon commerce that continues gnawing at our thin profits. Big 4 publishers are hastily buying up imprints and cornering markets as we speak, too. Don’t forget all these new apps—BlueSky, Threads, etc.—that one is expected to be on for “maximum exposure.” With finite resources and funding, I simply cannot exist—and even thrive—on every possible outlet. All in all it’s the same people just communicating in different formats. The line must be drawn on how much mental compartmentalizing must happen.
So where does that leave me? The small business owner-turned-literary savant? It seriously leaves me in an interesting pickle. On the one hand, I can stay the course and persevere through attrition and bypass the pretenders. Maybe once the ashes settle, things will be easier to see. The other hand is the formal exit. Closing the press, shutting any open doors, and reassimilating back into the giant creative pool as simply a writer. Will the TW legacy even matter in a year? A month? There’s no guarantee either way. It basically comes down to my own journey and the platform. While I’ve been inherently training my masthead to become their own publishers or even heirs to the press, there must always be a constant. For better or worse, that constant is me.
This is the part where I’d beg you to purchase books. I’m not stopping you if you so choose. I’ve likely seen the full spectrum of book enjoyers. From indifferent suburban families, misfit teenagers, peculiar urban elitists, you name it. Publishers, like writers, love to talk about their books. Who knows, maybe once you start your journey with Thirty West, you may see the road is vast and freeing. Maybe, after you read the Jules Archer’s, Kat Giordano’s, Kevin M. Kearney’s, and Shannon McLeod’s, you’ll drive down your Dan Brown’s, Stephen King’s, Jodi Picoult’s and Colleen Hoover’s to Goodwill. Your “To Be Read” stacks will thank you for the change of pace and attitude.
You might as well start this journey now—like, at this very moment. For once we’re gone, there’s no coming back.