This is quite, quite glorious. PublishAmerica is one of many companies that I' d love to see go down in flames - one of many companies whose 'publishing' deals are based entirely on reaming hopeful authors who don't know what a vanity press is, and can be swayed by the simple words 'we're not a vanity press'. PA stuffs its marketing with promises and fees that would be hilarious were they not playing on peoples dreams (I'm particularly fond of 'A symbolic $1 advance underlines that all financial risk is carried by the publisher'').

Sadly, at the end of it all, the only books you're ever likely to sell are to friends, family possibly a few from your website. This thread goes into plenty of detail on how it all works - more, I'd wager, than you ever wanted to know.

(Randomly, any passing PA authors who want to argue about this will be immediately disemvowelled.)

One of PA's biggest claims is that they don't just publish any old rubbish, and loathe as I am to pick holes in an argument, this is raw flaming flapdoodle. Brilliantly, a group of writers from SWFA (Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, no relation to the Justice League) teamed up to produce one of those works of fiction that makes your eyes literally melt in their sockets, and see if they could get it 'published'. You can see how they did, and download the manuscript from here, or actually order a copy from Lulu*. Needless to say, it's hilarious.

There are moments when life, like a bad movie, gives us theme music. The good stuff is quiet - maybe Rachmaninoff, played softly in the background; Bach or Beethoven - in the classy films, it's one of those, or maybe Mozart. Bruce Lucent's life wasn't like that. More like, oh, more like "Popcorn" - the electronic pop version, quick and zippy, headed straight toward a climax. In the end, well, it's a little flat - too much air, too little substance; it just ain't Beethoven, you know what I mean? But it's something, and we can't all be Beethoven, there just isn't talent enough in all the world for that.



Penelope nestled into the crook of Bruce's arm. It didn't matter to her that the music was "Popcorn"; for her it was Wagner and Valkyries, all the way.

From whiplash inducing changes of tense, to a plot that can't go anywhere because none of the writers really knew what it was between chapters, it's a genuinely stunning work of non-fiction in its most absolute form. Although, I must admit to a slight tinge of amusement at the fact that all these writers working together still couldn't quite top the scrofula-laced delighs of that other celebrated god of prose: The Eye of Argon. Remember that? It's the one that contains the unforgettable line...

"You"; ejaculated the Ecordian in a pleased tone

...and must therefore remain in circulation even when the world is given over to the cockroaches. Unless they're still working in vanity publishing.

(* Lulu, unlike vanity presses, doesn't pretend to be anything other than a print-on-demand company that will send out copies of whatever you want to whoever wants to buy one. You're probably not going to make your fortune from them, but there's no cash-up-front payment, you retain all the rights to your work, and there's no question mark over what you're getting into. From what I've seen, they're a decent company.)

Current Mood: sleepy

This is quite, quite glorious. PublishAmerica is one of many companies that I' d love to see go down in flames - one of many companies whose 'publishing' deals are based entirely on reaming hopeful authors who don't know what a vanity press is, and can be swayed by the simple words 'we're not a vanity press'. PA stuffs its marketing with promises and fees that would be hilarious were they not playing on peoples dreams (I'm particularly fond of 'A symbolic $1 advance underlines that all financial risk is carried by the publisher'').

Sadly, at the end of it all, the only books you're ever likely to sell are to friends, family possibly a few from your website. This thread goes into plenty of detail on how it all works - more, I'd wager, than you ever wanted to know.

(Randomly, any passing PA authors who want to argue about this will be immediately disemvowelled.)

One of PA's biggest claims is that they don't just publish any old rubbish, and loathe as I am to pick holes in an argument, this is raw flaming flapdoodle. Brilliantly, a group of writers from SWFA (Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, no relation to the Justice League) teamed up to produce one of those works of fiction that makes your eyes literally melt in their sockets, and see if they could get it 'published'. You can see how they did, and download the manuscript from here, or actually order a copy from Lulu*. Needless to say, it's hilarious.

There are moments when life, like a bad movie, gives us theme music. The good stuff is quiet - maybe Rachmaninoff, played softly in the background; Bach or Beethoven - in the classy films, it's one of those, or maybe Mozart. Bruce Lucent's life wasn't like that. More like, oh, more like "Popcorn" - the electronic pop version, quick and zippy, headed straight toward a climax. In the end, well, it's a little flat - too much air, too little substance; it just ain't Beethoven, you know what I mean? But it's something, and we can't all be Beethoven, there just isn't talent enough in all the world for that.



Penelope nestled into the crook of Bruce's arm. It didn't matter to her that the music was "Popcorn"; for her it was Wagner and Valkyries, all the way.

From whiplash inducing changes of tense, to a plot that can't go anywhere because none of the writers really knew what it was between chapters, it's a genuinely stunning work of non-fiction in its most absolute form. Although, I must admit to a slight tinge of amusement at the fact that all these writers working together still couldn't quite top the scrofula-laced delighs of that other celebrated god of prose: The Eye of Argon. Remember that? It's the one that contains the unforgettable line...

"You"; ejaculated the Ecordian in a pleased tone

...and must therefore remain in circulation even when the world is given over to the cockroaches. Unless they're still working in vanity publishing.

(* Lulu, unlike vanity presses, doesn't pretend to be anything other than a print-on-demand company that will send out copies of whatever you want to whoever wants to buy one. You're probably not going to make your fortune from them, but there's no cash-up-front payment, you retain all the rights to your work, and there's no question mark over what you're getting into. From what I've seen, they're a decent company.)

Current Mood: sleepy