It has now taken me almost a year to get hard copies of my self published book ready for distribution. I first commissioned a package that would format my book, outsource print cover design and furnish me with files for various online publishing sites in around June of last year. This evening I have dragged myself together to upload the second batch of final print files to CreateSpace only to discover the last cover file I was sent was a jpeg not a pdf. So, I have had to go back to the designer and ask for another file.

In reality, by the time she can fit this into her schedule and I can once again rouse myself to enter the headspace required to concentrate on what I’m trying to do, it will be another week. And then I will have to wait three weeks for a proof of the book to arrive unless I want to pay another thirty US dollars.

Which all leads me to the conclusion that self-publishing a book is as joyful and painless as writing a twelfth draft of your manuscript.

All I can say is that it’s lucky no-one has tried to buy it yet.

Well, at least I haven’t lost my sense of humour.

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