This article first appeared in Rover, an independent review of arts and culture on 25.04.2013 and subsequently on mybindi, an online magazine of South Asian arts, entertainment and lifestyle.
Publishing a book is like having a baby. We’ve all heard that one, right? Do you recall where? I don’t. It’s an omniscient statement like don’t get wet in the rain, you’ll catch a chill. Or, don’t get involved with a married man, he’ll never leave his wife (not sure what they say for married women, hmmm). Don’t become an artist, you’ll starve to death.
When I first came upon that book-equals-baby pearl, my immediate reaction was, “what a silly exaggeration.” Though not a mom, I have always felt that I know exactly what it is to have a baby. I was 10 when my busy, doctor mother brought forth my baby brother, and everyone’s life went for a toss. (This was small town India.) I think I had the most fun because of his arrival, but I certainly learnt that a baby makes incredible demands even as it brings leaping joy.
When I found a publisher, Guernica Editions, for my first fiction collection – Bombay Wali and Other Stories – after about eight months of marketing and as many rejections, I felt I had fared not too badly. My near and dear ones were thrilled and hearty with their congratulations. The book (baby) would squirm its way into a cruel, indifferent world in Spring 2013. This pregnancy was going to be almost as long as an elephants’, so I decided to put the end result out of my mind.
The bleak and bleary November of 2012 arrived and brought with it the proofs for The Book. What! Already? By the end of the month a heavy cardboard box containing 50 shiny copies had arrived at my door. Having already contributed in innumerable ways, my long-suffering partner lugged it up the stairs.
This baby was a premie. Great – I could take copies to India for my mother, brother and my artist friend who had done the lovely cover. We were visiting that December. Wait! – I had put a website address on Bombay Wali’s jacket. My partner and I quickly added a section to my existing site before catching the plane.
“Hope your book becomes a bestseller,” e-mailed an innocent friend. “When will it come to India?” asked another one. Unfortunately, people, who will hopefully buy your book if they are so fortunate as to lay their hands on it, don’t know the difference between small and big publishers. For most, publishing is Penguin, Random House and Harper Collins; books travel far and wide, their authors taken on grand tours by their multinational masters with huge promo budgets. I had no such delusions for myself.
Instead, I went overnight from glowing new mom to a neurotic mess. The book was here, but so what? When would it get to the stores? Would it even get there? What about Amazon, which was already slashing the pre-order price and had the number of pages wrong? Given the zillion books – prize-winning fiction by new and established authors, non-fiction about Climate Change! Economic Meltdowns! War in Afghanistan! all kinds of trendy stuff that appeals to the average North American reader – who the heck will care about Bombay what and Veena who? Incidentally, Bombay walli means a woman from Bombay.
Why wasn’t my style post-modern, I bemoaned. And with so many bookstores closing down, would I even get to read anywhere? Even if it got reviewed and somehow arrived in the stores and I got to read in public, no one was interested in short stories, right?
Worried sick about my baby’s survival, it seemed to me that infant mortality rates for books by first time authors was as bad as that for sub-Saharan Africa. It’s only a book, Veena. Chill. I tried various tones of voice. Standing before a mirror. While doing Downward Dog. No good. I was as nervous as the proverbial Nellie.
PS: I have become a zealous promoter. Bombay Wali must live, thrive even! Friends and acquaintances are buying and commenting favourably. Reviews and interviews have been promised and readings scheduled. Communities I belong to are taking it on. (It’s not my sole responsibility, it seems. Phew!) The book is on Amazon.
I am not sleeping like a baby yet, but one of these days hope to.
Great article! Hope you’re well and the book is selling well!
From a friend called Farah
I really enjoyed this book! There are such a variety of voices–some entertaining, some very moving, and some quite unique. There is also a real talent for making the small nuances of life, in each story, quite legible for those who have never been to India. I can’t wait for the novel!
Yes ‘bookgrency …. Loved the book … I could almost hear you read !
And your expression were very vivid !
Roll on more !
Best wishes always
Good luck
Lots of love m hugs
Xxc
That hit home! More after I’ve read it. Lots of love from across the high seas. 🙂
Veena, I can understand your feelings well. Writing a single article took me months, six months, to be precise, before sending it for publication. And more of them are in ‘works’, but I find it’s a tough job to get them out the door, though paucity of time is admittedly not an excuse for me. Writing a book must be a lot tougher, and getting the book published must be another challenging task. That said, whoever compared book to a baby probably didn’t write a book, or did not have a baby, or most probably both ! Hope to see you getting chased by Penguins of the world.
Thanks all for your great response.
Shailu, being a professional writer the actual writing comes easy to me, rewriting of course takes time and so it should. I think it is because we have so many choices now as humans, there are many more writers and much less readers because they are following other pursuits! Or the demands of life are such/ or the distractions of social media are such that people read less books. Anyhow, just have to accept that and this acceptance is already on its way for me.
Good one… and nothing changes even if you’ve written a couple – says Manjira who is a published (non fiction so far) writer herself.