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June 07, 2007
A Self-Published Success Story: Unimagined
This is one of the ways it can be done: write a book, self-publish, send it out for reviews, and voila -- Imran Ahmad's memoir 'Unimagined: A Muslim Boy Meets the West,' is a star. (okay--Muslim and West in the same sentence are becoming a gimmicky cliche). Not so hasty if you please--- Scott Pack can do what all writers dream of-- pass a book to an agent-- but first he has to be able to read past his good will target of fifty pages...
"Everything about it said 'self-published': crap cover, terrible title, dodgy production values. My instinct was yelling 'avoid avoid!'. But one thing I always tried to do when I worked in bookselling was to read a chunk of everything I was sent. It could be a chore but I sort of felt it was the least I could do....
When the time came to trot off to the boardroom for a meeting, I found it painful to have to put it down. It was remarkable: funny, moving, intelligent, beautifully observed. The amiable confessional style along with short pithy chapters with titles such as Jesus, Spam, Muhammad, Wogs and Spock..."
read rest here
Imran's story goes to show that things aren't all sour in the publishing world.
Here's a comment from Imran Ahmad in the comments section of Scott's blog post.
"I slip out of the office at lunchtime to go to Borders. A bus is coming, so I run to the bus stop and just make it. I flash my travel card and he doesn’t even blink, as if I’m not really here, as if I’m a figment of my own imagination.
My heart is thumping as Borders approaches. I jump off the bus, run across the road and regain my composure, before I stride casually inside the store. I don’t want to draw attention to myself, get recognised and be accosted by a crowd of hysterical young women. (Actually, I do).
There it is, facing me on the shelf – eight copies, ‘front of store’ as promised. This is the moment I have waited all my life for. Wow! I can hardly believe it. I thought this was going to happen in 2005, with my magnificent self-published book (with its mysterious, enigmatic cover), but somehow I wasn’t able to persuade Borders to stock it, let alone put it ‘front of store’.
I move on, casually strolling around the tables, waiting for the magic moment. Hold on, here’s a chap, a youngish man, casually dressed, looks a bit foreign, he’s looking over the books in that display, the one with my book in it. His eyes are running over the books systematically, and he’s taking little steps sideways, towards my book. I move into a casual holding position, from where I can observe him, but he won’t see me. That’s it, he’s in place now, his eyes are running down the shelves and now he’s … that’s right sunshine … good man … he’s looking at my book! His face is steady, right on it. … Oh yes … oh yes .. come on .. oh yes… oh yes … he’s reaching for it … he’s got it! ... He’s picked up my book! It’s in his hands … he’s studying the cover … good looking chap on the cover, don’t you think? … now the back … great quotes, eh? … haven’t you always loved Sue Cook , as I have done? … now he’s reading the inside front flap … a logical approach … seems like a smart chap … it’s taking him an awfully long time to read the front flap .. okay, he’s done … hey! … what the hell do you think you’re doing? … what the hell are you doing? … he’s put it back … back on the shelf .. he’s moving on … stupid bastard! you stupid idiot! … what the hell are you doing in a bookshop?! … can you even read?…
I return to the office a broken man."
Posted by Soniah Kamal at June 7, 2007 08:48 PM
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Posted by: Anonymous at June 7, 2007 08:48 PM
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