Many authors don't stop to think that they are not all the same. They don't all want the same thing. In fact, there are seven possible levels of achievement open to authors.

The first is getting their book published. For themselves. Many authors slave over a hot typewriter for many months (or years), dreaming of the day when they can hold that book in their hand. They don't want to be stuck forever with a pile a papers, a manuscript. They want that collection of grubby bits and pieces to be taken off them and sent back all neatly bound up, with a glossy cover and their name in big letters on the front. Then they get to keep that copy. One. This is the First Level of Publishing, and to achieve this, all authors have to do is receive one copy, in their hands. (Internet Publishing can provide this, easily, and usually for minimum expense, ie You want one copy? You pay for one copy.) 'Traditional' publishers cannot do this. If you, the author, want a copy, you'll have to be lucky enough to land a publishing contract, which means thousands of copies of your book will be printed and you, as the lucky author, will receive one, (or maybe a few) copies. Traditional Publishers don't do singles.

The Second Level of Publishing is when you receive five copies. Traditional Publishers do this, (if, by good luck and fortune, they happen to award you a contract, which of course they don't, in 99% of cases). The lucky author will be sent a handful of copies and will be able to give them to their friends, and relatives. You can prove to your mother that you are a real writer, and the milkman, and the postman (who carried all your manuscript packages back and forth to the publishers for you all those years). Also the next door neighbour, (and maybe your kids, if you've got any). Five copies will do it, usually, maybe a few more. Internet publishers, like Lulu, can do this too. You want five copies? You pay for five copies. They even deliver them.

The Third Level of Publishing is when you want 50 copies. This enables you to send copies of your book to every single member of your family, including distant cousins, perhaps as Christmas presents. It also enables you to go into your local big bookshop, say Waterstones or Borders, and ask them to stock a few copies of your latest work. Big bookshops don't see much of a profit in that, but will usually do it if you are a local author. They want the goodwill. Internet Publishers will let you order that amount, 50 copies, and encourage you to hawk them round locally. This is where Traditional Publishing departs, isn't it? Authors who are lucky enough to land a publishing contract assume they can stroll into their local bookshops and their spanking new novel will be there on the shelves, next to all the other best sellers. That might work with the large multiples, which have 'arrangements' with national publishers and are visited regularly by the book reps employed by big publishers. However, new authors are often disappointed to find that their busy publisher, with their national profile and crowded agenda, hasn't managed to get into 'local' bookshops at all - the village store, the newsagents. When they complain, the publisher sends them another cardboard box. So, you write and write, struggling for years and years to land a publishing contract, and you still end up being a book salesperson, (just like people who go with Internet Publishers).

Worse, there's the whole sorry saga of Critics. Authors who go for Internet Publishing realise that they have to send copies out to newspaper critics, plus their local radio and TV, in order to get mentions. Writers who land publishing contracts mostly assume that their new-found friends, the publishers, will be taking care of this side of business for them. Only if you're a star! If the publisher thinks you are going to be a bestseller, they might take the time and make the effort to contact their friends in the media for you. However, many struggling new authors have been dispirited to find that this hasn't happened. When they query it, another cardboard box of books arrives, together with the encouragement to 'go out and contact the critics'. This isn't right! Securing a publishing deal is projected as being the target for authors, the gold at the end of the rainbow, not the start of a new cycle of even harder work. Slogging books out to critics is work, all right, and demeaning for the newly-signed author with delusions of grandeur.

(end of Part One. To be continued.)