I just started reading a new book. It’s about the adventures of a Hollywood casting agent. By page 20, I encountered a lot of meandering. I wondered, did this book have an editor? Is this self published? I looked at the back cover. There were no blurbs typical of commercially-published books. I looked at the spine; no indication of a publisher. Inside, no mention of a publishing company.

Great, I thought. A self-published book. Authors who self publish usually don’t come under the harsh gaze of a brittle, unforgiving, super-critical editor, armed with a blue pencil worn down to the nub. Consequently, such books often don’t come up snuff, compared to those released by traditional publishing companies. Which makes them hard, for me, to read.

The moment I realize a book is written by someone not allied with a publisher, I roll my eyes. I really don’t have anything against self publishing, believe it or not. What I am against is sloppy writing. Unfocused. Meandering. It’s frustrating to read and it wastes my time.

Time. As of this writing, I’m 78 years old. I’m running low on time. I really don’t want to take my last breath while slogging through a poorly-written book.

Two self-published books I bought found their way to the recycle bin. I mentioned that to someone, and she said I should have given them to someone else to enjoy. I replied that I was saving the readers of the world a lot of pain by disposing of them.

Horror author James G. Carlson noticed the Facebook post about my latest self-publishing experience. His comment:

“It’s a tough spot to be in as an author. Most won’t make enough in sales to justify editing costs. Then there are those who think their work is good enough as is and forego the editing process. Of course, that’s almost always a mistake. Readers are only forgiving of errors and plot holes to a point.”

True enough. And I quickly get to that point.

Heads up: If u need a gr8 editerr, we gottem.