Lifestyle Blogging

Gala Darling Wants To Clarify Her Book Non-Deal

Gala Darling, purveyor of pink tulle enemas and other fine goods, wants to clear up a few details about her “book”.

I had a meeting with the biggest publishing house on the planet who said, “We don’t get it.” I worked with an agent who eventually said, “It’s not a good time to sell this.” I kicked my own ass about it for years before realising that everything else in life I did on my own. This would simply be another one of those things.

Saying “I simply decided to self-publish” and claiming to have already “sold over 100,000 copies of Love & Sequins as an e-book”, she attempted to spin being declined by publishers as her choice, because self-love and vision.

The days of waiting for a publisher, an agent, a record label, or a talent scout to pluck you out of obscurity are over. No more waiting…Maybe that literary agent didn’t share my vision, and perhaps it wasn’t the right time to work with that publisher. But I have enough vision for both of them combined…

Ok, I understand self-publishing is the new literary frontier and there’s tons of legit writers doing it to avoid all the publishing industry bs. But let’s get real – her justifications are just the usual Gala arm flapping to distract you from the fact that publishers and agents want nothing to do with her  “radical navel gazing” crap.

She knew she’d be getting questions about who the publisher was and fawngirls wanting posts about the process, and she’s nipping that ish in the bud. Which is fine; it’s great that she’s not attempting to fool anyone into thinking she got a book deal. But she also isn’t self-publishing strictly because she’s so visionary and powerful. If you read between the lines you can tell she’s also self-publishing because to the publishing world, “Love & Sequins” isn’t worth the space it takes up on a hard drive and no legitimate literary agent wants to touch it with a 50 foot pole.

But I guess admitting that doesn’t sound as inspiring as a bunch of “believe in yourself” rainbow gun tripe. Whatever. The pink glitter money grab train rolls on.