I try on this site to stay pretty far on the “offer good content” vs. “use this site just to pimp my writing” side of the line, but occasionally something happens that’s exciting enough to post about it.

I wrote a book of tech poetry, about technology, artificial intelligence, and the digital lifestyle. I released it on the net for free about two weeks ago, putting out a version of the e-book that was as polished as I could make it.

After putting the book online, I started trying to build some buzz on the net. I posted the book on scribd.com, shopped it around to some e-book blogs, and posted it on several forums, including XKCD.

Here’s how the book is doing so far, after two weeks on the net:

The book has made the “featured” and “hot list” on scribd.com. At the time of this writing, it’s gotten 3,855 reads and has been downloaded 744 times.

The book has been made into a torrent (thanks to Zorlin at the XKCD forum for doing that!), which has been downloaded 697 times at the time of this writing.

The PDF of the book has also been downloaded 48 times from my website.

I’m pretty happy with how the book is doing so far. If you know of another place my book has appeared on the net, please let me know. Thanks to everyone who’s reading my work.

Arrr, me hearties, it be talk like a pirate day. So affix yerself solidly to the mast while we weather these rocky e-book reviewing waters. When last we spoke, I told ye if ye sent a parrot to me ship, a scrolled version o’ yer e-book clutched in its talons, I’d affix my eyeglass to studyin’ yer jet black prose.

Soon after, a scurvy seadog by the name of Levi Montgomery sailed an e-scroll of his short tome into my harbor. So screw yer courage to a place that sticks and let’s get on with the review of his novella, “The Death of Patsy McCoy.” Arrr.

Alright, enough of the pirate talk. I’d considered writing the whole review that way, but it doesn’t seem respectful to the author, so let’s do this legit. Arrr…ahem.

“The Death of Patsy McCoy” is an ambitious work. Telling a story through the eyes of five separate characters is difficult, and this is what the novella does. The book focuses on the events of one tragic summer – a new kid comes to a dying mill town, tries to fit in with a rough gang of country boys, and suffers the repercussions of being a pudgy and awkward outsider. The boys name the new kid Patsy, violently haze him, all the while assuring him he’ll eventually be one of them if he does what they tell him to do.

The story is advanced through five separate sections (with a sixth conclusion section), and each section focuses on a different viewpoint. The book purposefully toys with the reader, sowing misinformation, hinting at clues to the timeline of Patsy’s death and slowly revealing more as each character takes up the mantel of the story. We get to see several of the same events through the eyes of different characters.

When it works, it works well. Of the five characters, the most strongly written is the second, a mentally challenged kid named Spittle. In high school I spent a semester working in a buddy system called the SELF program – a program that paired mentally challenged teens with regular teens for gym class. The mental confusion Spittle experiences from peer pressure rang true to some of my experiences with the higher functioning teenagers I worked with in SELF. Spittle’s was a believable viewpoint.

However, the voices of several of the characters don’t ring as true, breaking immersion. Getting the voice of a character right is one of the hardest things to do. Take John Updike’s classic short story, “A&P”, which is one of the best examples of character voice that I know. Updike first line is, “In walks these three girls in nothing but bathing suits.”

Instantly, we have a feeling for the voice of the character, just from that line. It could have been, “Three girls in nothing but bathing suits walk in,” which would have told us nothing. But with a simple inversion, we already understand the voice of the character. We understand how he talks.

Montgomery’s novella gets some lines right. In the third section, which focuses on Babyface, the most malevolent of the five hazing boys, says, “Can’t believe he went on to become a judge. Same age as me, dead already. Who blows your brains out at 37?”

From this line know this character. He’s flip and disrespectful, a fast-talker, a guy who only cares about himself. The hypothetical question gives no credence to the dead, and by extension, to the idea of death, which dehumanizes him. Now we know who he is.

However, only a sentence or two later, the same character suddenly waxes philosophic, “It lies within each of us to choose the time and place and manner of our own death…”

We all have our different sides, but I struggled to follow a character who could instantly transform from flip to hallmark card within the span of two sentences. I didn’t buy it. And for a novella that depends so much on the strength of each characters’ voice, these moments of uncharacteristic armchair philosophy made it difficult for me. I felt like I was hearing Levi Montogomery, not Farm Boy, Babyface, Bowels, or Patty.

Of course, even for a novella that depends on character voice, voice isn’t the whole shebang. Story matters, too. So was the story in “The Death of Patsy McCoy” good? Did I learn anything? Was I entertained? I’m not sure, but this uncertainty isn’t a drawback, it’s a plus for the novella.

For example: American History X is a powerful movie, one that everyone should see, but it’s not good. It doesn’t make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t entertain you. It makes you feel squirmy and nauseous, but also that you are somehow better for feeling awful. And that’s how I felt about “The Death of Patsy McCoy.” It didn’t make me feel good. It made me feel sick to my stomach. But it made me feel like I had stuff to think about.

Whenever I finish a book, I always set it down on the bedside (yeah, I read in bed – my bed is soft and I like it) and stare up at the ceiling for awhile and think about it. If the book didn’t make me think, I’m up and taking a whiz inside of five minutes, whistling while I circle the bowl. If I feel like I have something to think about, I can stare at the ceiling for hours. Those long ones are the “thousand page stare” (like the thousand yard stare, but way less haunting).

“The Death of Patsy McCoy” made me stare at the ceiling for twenty-six minutes, give or take four minutes (it’s not a precise science here). Do with that what you will.

So, overall, I’d recommend “The Death of Patsy McCoy” to a reader who was willing to look past its flaws in character voice. If a reader is willing to do that, there’s something of value inside those digital pages.

Thanks for reading.

Arrr.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Welcome to the final part of our weeklong discussion about self-published e-books and legitimacy. We’ve looked at different possibilities for attaining self-published e-book legitimacy and examined their pros and cons. We’ve heard several different perspectives from members in and outside of traditional publishing. It’s time to wrap things up and draw some needed conclusions.

The original concept that spurred this series was the idea of creating a “substantial publishing record” through self-published e-books, so that’s where I’d like to end. Sure, we’ve covered that building a large demonstrated readership (download numbers, reviews, etc), self-published or not, will probably get a traditional publisher’s attention. But what about legitimacy without transitioning to traditional publishing? Just what are we actually building here? A gateway to the big leagues? Or a separate and legitimate venue?

We’re trying to make the fringe mainstream – that’s the juicy beating heart of it. We’re punk music. We’re techie geeks. We’re social networking and blogging and twitter. We’re goddamn revolutionaries.

So this is how we do it: adoption and critical mass. Via flipping the bird at the establishment until the establishment is respectful or gone. Via not giving a damn about legitimacy.

Because we already have it.

E-book self-publishers need to take themselves seriously and keep plugging away at creating their own community. Don’t worry about the naysayers. They don’t matter.

The thing every author wants more than anything else is to be read. But it’s a two way street: we have to read, too. If we want our self-published e-books to be legitimate, we need to legitimize other self-published e-books by giving them our time and responses. There are some great sites out there that are already doing this, as well as other options, like blogs and twitter, for building a community.

So read each other’s work and review it on your site. If you don’t have a site, post about it on twitter, or facebook, or scribd, or wattpad, or bookoven, or however else you can get the word out. If you read something good, beat the digital pavement, signboard in hand. Trade reviews with people, but be honest about what’s quality and what isn’t. Build your name as a valued member of the community. Think of yourself as a professional and act like one, even if writing is only your hobby.

The only real way to give self-published e-books legitimacy is to make them legitimate ourselves. We need to write quality books, compose balanced reviews, and keep building our community.

Thank you very much for reading. Keep on keepin’ on,

-m.

P.S. To prove I’m not just a talker, if you send me a PDF of your quality self-published e-book, I’ll review it on my site. I know there are other writers who are willing to do this as well. Just remember, it’s a two way street, so help build your community and review someone.