Jim Macdonald reports that the Absolute Write people have fooled PublishAmerica once again.  One would have thought that they would have been on the lookout after they offered “Travis Tea” a contract for the purposely awful Atlanta Nights.  But they didn’t–Crack of Death* by “Sharla Tann” was offered “the chance it deserves” by PublishAmerica.  It will be published by an honest vanity press, Lulu.

While I’m happy to laugh at the stupidity of PublishAmerica, I’m saddened that this exercise is necessary.  A perusal of their website illuminates problems facing contemporary writers.  All the emphasis is on providing authors a conduit to release their books, not on providing books to a reading audience.  Non-vanity publishers focus their marketing on readers, not authors; at most, they feature a “Submissions” page linked on their index page.  At the same time, PublishAmerica insists that it is a “traditional” publisher while claiming that it is revolutionizing the industry via new technology.  It exploits authors’ desire to be published while fooling them into thinking that a PublishAmerica contract carries the same prestige as a small or specialty press.  The underlying problem, I think, is an inordinate desire to be published immediately.

*A reading from Crack of Death.  Let us attend.

Nancy spent all night starring at the cold gray cell walls covered in graffiti and thinking about Roberto. Where was he, she thought? Roberto where are you? Her heart ached for him, his shiny dark hair and firm taut muscles, his Calian accent, she imagined herself warm and safe in his arms, she imagined them making passionate love and him tenderly kissing the out line of her butterfly tattoo on her smooth buttocks the way he used to on those hot feverish nights in his penthouse sweet near the new Tescos in south Clapham.

All of a sudden she heard a key turn slowly in the lock. ‘Whose there!’ she shouted sharply. No one replied. Then the cell door opened slowly and creakily. She could see the out line of two tall men. ‘what’ she said.

‘Are you Nancy?’ Said a smooth commanding voice.

‘Might be.’

The two out lines stepped slowly into the cell and she could see they were two men, one white and black.