I must be crazy. What do I think I’m doing? I’m going about this the wrong way. If I say it to myself before I hear it from someone else, perhaps it won’t be so discouraging and perhaps I won’t give up. I am attempting to publish my first illustrated children’s book. I have chosen my own illustrator, procured my own ISBN number, and will be my own publisher. And yes, I do know all of the arguments against this kind of folly.

Here’s the way it is supposed to be done: You write your stories, get editing advice from fellow writers and friends (some of whom remain friends), submit countless query letters (after researching which publishers might deign to even glance at your letter), submit manuscripts (being thankful that at least some publishers accept digital submissions), and then wait next to the mailbox (physical or virtual) with a big box of kleenex for the rejection notices to come rolling in. Then, when not one of your beautiful stories is published, you latch onto an agent who is motivated to sell your stuff since they will get a share of the profits. The agent finally convinces a publisher to give you a chance and you are launched into the world of officially sanctioned and published writing.

The publisher writes up your contract, decides what percentage (if any) of the book sales that you will receive, chooses an illustrator (whose work you may or may not like), dictates changes to the text of the book and tells you what the title will be. Publishers are, of course, helpful in many respects and they do earn their keep in countless ways: designing the book layout, creating an eye-catching cover, telling you clearly when your writing sucks, keeping track of income and taxes by providing you with year-end statements… and most importantly of all…. Promoting The Book.

Those publishers know all the angles: the bookworm magazines and literary organizations, the librarian blogs and rags, the trade shows, the bookstore promos, the schmoozing and oozing. I know I’ve left lots out because I haven’t traveled there and I don’t have a map. I’m just publishing a book because I like the story, I love the illustrator and I think that children will enjoy the result.

That said, I am still scared spitless. (Why is my spell-checker underlining the word, “spitless?” Isn’t that a word? It’s reality anyways.)

So, I am doing the dive; a self-published digital book optimized for the iPad, available by Christmas of 2011. My feet have left the platform and I am free-falling. It is exhilarating as the wind rushes past my face… but eventually I will contact the surface of the deadline, go deep, and hopefully eventually come up for air. It’s too late to haul me back to the diving platform and counsel me to take it to a legitimate publisher, but it’s not too late to pray.