Hybrid Publishing is an emerging third option for authors uninterested or unable to either self-publish or trade publish. This method of publishing—also known as partnership publishing or copublishing—claims to foster the best of both the vanity and traditional, publishing paths. In actually, hybrid publishing generally encompasses everything in between, and thus means something slightly different to each publisher.
Some less adaptable to change dismiss hybrid publishing as a glorified vanity press, yet the option does rise above the pay-to-play fray in several ways. Here are some of the more prevalent attributes of a hybrid:
I took great interest in this realm of publishing, but was left wanting when searching for a listings page. So I decided I’d start one! Here is a small but growing list of hybrid publishers.
50+ Hybrid Publishers
* This list only includes those companies that self-proclaim (or has a published article referring to them) as a hybrid or partnership publisher. Also note that anything in quotes was taken directly from the website.
Okay, there you have it folks. If you’re considering hybrid publishing, be sure to submit to publishers who vet their submissions, who have distribution channels you could not obtain otherwise, and whose brand is more than a sales pitch.
If you know of any hybrid publishers not listed here, please let me know their name, link and possibly their distribution channels so I can add them to the list.
Unable to truly understand the concept of magicalrealism, I finally hunkered down and read "100 Years of Solitude" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a hefty book that fellow authors couldn't believe I hadn't read yet.
Magical realism mixed with hints of poetic absurdism-we follow the fascinating, complex lives of the Buendia family through generations as they attempt to outwit preordained cyclical omens.
Starting from their Patriarch Jose Arcardio Buendia, the family assumes they are destined for greatness; however, they must overcome this stubborn ideology in order to obtain that greatness. The story is laden with beauty and sadness with its constant stream of bleak prose, yet the matter-of-fact-ness in tone keeps any tears at bay.
Refreshingly, the book is not one of the high-pressure sales SFF books we're inundated with today, as it was written in the 60s as a meta-assessment of Latin American history.
I'd been told it was a psychological thriller. Aware there'd been a movie yet unaware of the genre or content, only that it was a best-seller, I picked it up.
A not so perfect husband is accused of murdering his too perfect wife, or did she murder herself? or did she murder his 'self,' or had he murdered hers? The true crime suspense novel is full of intelligent riddles and just plain smart writing. I felt it started a little slow, and dragged in a spot or two, but when it picked up, it had me laughing, angry and anxious, frantic to get to the next page and find where the hell Flynn was taking us with this trip.
I give this novel 5-stars, dispite my utter infuriation with its twists and twistednesses. Definitely an intellectual mind-F that deserved to be movie-fied. I will be reading more Flynn.
I receive a healthy handful of private messages on Instagram and Twitter: mostly hellos, high-fives and how-do-yous. Every once in a while, I'll receive a thought provocation causing me to set down my phone to explore it with whoever is in earshot and willing to converse. I recently received such a question, and while typing out my response, I (through the very nature of the response) realized it was blog-worthy.
Do you ever feel like writing creatively is incredibly arrogant, and pointless when there's so much in the real world that's so powerful? I've been thinking about it a lot, and it's really an awkward thing trying to write fiction, because for me personally I have to take bold, calculated risks in the real world to get outside my own head.
Anyway, just wanted to say hi, and thanks!
Thanks for writing!
I thought about your notion - how writing creatively can be perceived as arrogant and pointless considering the density of real world experiences and our need of the real world in order to write creatively in the first place.
I find that creative writing, especially in the realm of science fiction, is incredibly un-pointless and has arguably been a hefty contributor to social evolution and scientific innovation. There are countless examples of real world technological advancements born from novels and creative arts: rockets, cellphones, helicopters, submarines, 2nd Life, right down to the very word Robot coined by a playwright in the 1920s.
Is creative writing arrogant? Yes. I'd say producing (a.k.a creating) anything is arrogant. Finding oneself worthy enough to contribute to society by taking their insides and pouring it forth in any fashion is arrogant: down to the hard truth that bearing children, though etched into our DNA and (again arguably) our purpose for existence, is arrogant. "Who are you to continue your line of genes?" a critic might ask acerbically. "What makes your traits so special?"
However; to lock oneself in a cave, attempting to avoid arrogance yet keeping all of one's creative potential to oneself, is also a selfish act. Moreover, to choose to deny oneself pleasures and external stimuli rings of self-absorption. The act of choosing on behalf of the self is, in and of itself, self...ish; and to choose not to choose is also a choice.
So if to do is arrogant, and to not do is arrogant, and if to resign oneself to suicide so as to avoid the dilemma is also arrogant, the real question is...what isn't arrogant?
Keep writing! :)
(also published on Women of Badassery)
Upon researching this topic, I found that most articles claimed that underrepresentation and misrepresentation of minorities run rampant due to the unshakable racisms of news and entertainment media. However, I believe that though this was certainly the case in the days of “Gone with the Wind,” there are too many other competing factors to extricate racism as the sole case in today’s society.
In practice, modern-day racism is arguably a subset of classism–privileges or hardships based on socio-economic status—classism having an all-encompassing impact on the ability for minorities to present themselves as much as (and in the way they’d) like to be portrayed in TV, film and literature. Though there is a definite positive mobility towards more prevalent and accurate depictions of alternative groups, most writers, creators and directors are of the Caucasian male persuasion, causing a fairly limited scope of experiences to draw from for creative inspiration and character development.
Why is this? Why is it that according to a 2014 UCLA study, almost 90% of directors, 92% of screenwriters and 90% of show creators for broadcast television are Caucasian? It certainly explains the results of a recent statistical comb-through done by USC’s Journalism School, which surveyed the top 600 grossing films over a span of five years up through 2013 and found that about 74% of all speaking character roles were Caucasian.
The truth is it’s more complicated than simple racism; it’s systemic. Most aspiring minority directors, writer, actors and creatives simply don’t make it to the point where their scripts, plays and readings could be denied, as many of their talents never make it to a bona fide arts class, let alone a pitch desk. Whether due to lack of exposure, education or economic freedom, their opportunity is lacking far before a publishing or production agency has the chance to provide a rejection based on race. And as the inspiring African American 2015 Emmy award winner Viola David said, “The only thing that separates women of color from anyone else is opportunity.”
With stiff competition in these fields, you are expected to have a degree, a portfolio, a resume of previous works, proof of expertise and a willingness to invest in writing a full edited book, an edited screenplay or filming a well-produced spec filmed. Acquiring said clout and creating said works takes a lot of time, effort and study before you can present yourself as an economically viable venture—and it all depends on one’s level of exposure to the professional arts and one’s economic situations.
Let’s first tackle exposure. A 2009 to 2014 Directors Guild of America study found that only 13% of directors who embarked upon their first assignment in episodic television within that time-frame were minorities. Are there a high proportion of minority students with arts degrees not finding work, or are there a significantly low number of students receiving arts degrees in the first place? According to a 2008 survey by National Endowment for the Arts, only 26% of African Americans and 28% of Hispanics age 18-24 reported receiving arts education of any kind, with 58% of Caucasians reporting having received arts education. Many minorities never realize they may have a talent for writing and director. Sulin Iyengar, Director of Research at the Endowment, stated that the shortage in arts education in schools is a big reason for the lack of arts exposure in minorities since schools are the most likely place for minority and underprivileged students to receive instruction in the arts.
But the most important point is that it simply makes very little economic sense to attempt a career in writing, film, or even music for a minority especially considering the current economic climate. You’ve got to have a means to support yourself or a supportive family while creating your works. If you or your family is more focused on becoming economically stable (building a savings, working three shifts, putting children through school), it leaves little free time to make creating a priority. According to Local Area Unemployment Statistics (LAUS) and Current Population Surveys (CPS) the unemployment rate of African Americans in major cities in 2014 hold a range of 10.2% to 13.67 with Hispanics at 6.02% to 10.53% and Caucasians at 3.75% to 5.29%. These statistics demonstrate that economic stability is a greater issue for minorities than Caucasians and this in turn may keep minorities from exploring artistic careers.
I myself did not grow up in a very privileged situation, but was given the opportunity at an early age to understand and appreciate the importance of art, writing, music and creative expression as a mode of communication—not only allowing me the freedom to write and release music, and to write and publish novels, but the wherewithal to create an artistic business in order to support my artistic habits and help contribute to the portrayal of cultural diversity in the creative world.
The media portrays who ‘it’ thinks we are, and we react to that, believing ‘it’ is setting our standard of behavior. However, if one would like the media to portray what he or she wants to see, he or she must be the one to pick up the pen and write the scene. I believe it begins at the adolescent level, exposing to underprivileged students the importance of the media—arts, music, film and literature—and its portrayals on our society as a whole but also on our personal interactions, prejudices and moralizations. If one could be exposed to how much power the wielders of media truly hold, and have an equal economic opportunity to pursue that power, I believe the tone of the conversation would change drastically.
Earlier this year I received a summons for Jury Duty. Being an over-the-top workaholic, my first response is to call the number provided on the summons and postpone my service date for six months. Lo and behold, six months later, I receive another summons like clockwork! I was in the middle of planning my book tour, so of course, I am caught off guard by it like any normal, self-absorbed millennial.
Though many have encouraged me to start blogging, I could never really find the impetus or catalyst to propel me to embark upon the habit...until now....until Jury duty. Not that my time of service in the NYC court system was particularly exciting, but it was certainly an experience, and I learned a lot about the system and about myself.
I rush to 111 Center Street by 8:30 the morning of my summons, and after hours in the TSA-style security lines and the DMV-style summons-checking waiting area, my service begins well after 10:30. We, the one hundred plus prospective jurors, sit in a main hall and listen to an African man tell us what to expect over the next two days. If you are not selected to the jury panel of a specific case in the two days, you are free to leave, your service complete. After another hour of checking my emails on the nonexistant wi-fi, I am called within the first batch of forty who will be briefed for possible selection within the first case.
The forty of us enter the courtroom, are quickly sworn in, and are introduced to the presiding judge. The first Supreme Court trial is against a young man for selling drugs to an undercover cop in close proximity to a high school. The judge acquaints us with the two sets of attorneys and the defendant, a young well-groomed black man who rises once introduced. He turns to his potential jurors and says something along the lines of, "Hello and good morning everyone. How's it going?" with a smile and a curt wave. This move is something I highly recommend to prospective defendants. I immediately acquit him in my mind. He asked me how my day was! He is a young, healthy black kid who smiled at me. I think 'Do the cops not have better things to do with their very talented undercover agents?'
The judge seems to want to hurry along the process and asks us to come to the front if we'd like to be excuse from selection. One woman stands up, is pregnant, and is excused. I can sense the african americans in the room itching to find an excuse to leave, not wanting to judge this man that could be their cousin, their brother, their son. Several people, including black people who were very evidently not Ethiopian, claim they are Jewish and must observe the upcoming Yom Kippur. I play the blind card, claiming I would not fairly judge visual evidence -- not necessarily an untruth. As I head back to the hall, I wonder if it's his smile and hello that propelled me to want to excuse myself from judging his case or simply the fact that he was black and 'a guy I could have a beer with.' I then wonder if it is because I have issues with the current drug laws and their implied prejudice or if I simply want to get out of wasting time sitting in a courtroom for weeks. I then think...if I really wanted to help him, I could have gotten on the jury and persuaded them to come to an acquittal.
At noon on day two I am called within a group of seventy for a stalker case. The Justice, much older than the one from the previous day, appears in no hurry and is very long-winded. He spends almost an hour explaining civic duty and courtroom manner. I do appreciate his clarification that upon being sworn in, those who do not believe in the biblical God or oaths may say "I so affirm" in stead of "I swear." I find it interesting that this older judge is the more progressive of the two. The judge speaks so much that we break for lunch before hearing any details of the case. He mentions the claimant's name, but it doesn't stick in my mind.
During lunch I see my ex-supervisor from the Corps at a Starbucks. I try not to be pleased that she looks old, tired and 'of yesterday.' I allow her to say an obligatory hello then scamper off. I then occupy myself with contemplating why she'd stood behind me in the line for ten minutes saying nothing, her underwhelming outfit, and her dark circles. I think about how much happier I am since having left the job to pursue music and writing and consider if I should have expressed that to her. The thought of music causes the though of R&B pop star Ashanti to invade my head space. As I scurry back to the courthouse I quell a growing urge to google her. It's not until I'm firmly ensconced back in the no-cellphone courtroom that I kick myself in the face for not googling her during lunch break. She is the claimant.
Apparently Ashanti is being stalked by a man named Devar Hurd. He sent her several hundred sexually inappropriate tweets. Initially I ponder at why a female pop star would care about a man sending depraved tweets. I receive dozens of grossly perverted texts from men simply because they'd gotten my number from the back of my business card. I then wonder, as a well-off member of a group called "Murder Inc," doesn't Ashanti have people that can 'handle' this? Perhaps I watch too much Breaking Bad, Ray Donavon and Scandal, but I've always assumed you don't bring a cop to a street fight. I do remain intrigued. The judge makes it very clear that no excuses will suffice for evading selection, and try as we may, he's heard it all before. Vacations may be forfeited. The defendant, Mr. Hurd, is introduced. He stands, flashes an 'I'm guilty and could care less about you' scowl then sits back down wordlessly (obviously self-represented).
In that moment I no longer wish to serve on the case. The judge explains that the defendant has already been in and out of jail for the case at hand, and all I can think of is that he either just needs mental and psychiatric help, or a bunch of bigger black men to 'kick his ass.' This is not your average Catcher-in-the-Rye-reading white guy. We're talking about a black man, already paranoid and delusional due to 'the system' who is obsessed with a pop singer. He could be part of a murdering gang, a gun-slinger, an armed robber. He should be dealt with the way the streets deal with such things.
They line us up outside to come in one by one with our excuses. I, twentieth or so in line, watch as some of the Jewish people who'd been previously excused and the pregnant woman walk in to the courtroom then back out to the hall to wait -- having been unexcused, and by the time they get to me, no one has been excused. Knowing the blind card will not work here, I walk in and decide to be honest. I say to the judge, "I'm visually impaired. I'm not certain as to the race of the defendant, but if he is of African decent, I do not believe I can judge fairly in this case." The judge responds with, "Yes, he is African American, but what if I told you the claimants are also African American?" I say, "I cannot judge fairly in case against a man of African decent." The judge looks over at the prosecuting lawyer, and they all nod. The judge excuses me from the case.
I, under oath and on a matter of public record, stated that I am racist.
I understand that in both cases race heavily influenced my decision to excuse myself from selection. We are all racially biased to some extent, as heuristic classifications are a healthy defense mechanism we as humans use for survival, especially during these times of swift social evolution. Fortunately yet unfortunately people often grant an automatic benefit of the doubt to minorities who suggest more erudite qualities. "Wow, she speaks intelligently for a black person." I tend to choose to ride that wave as far as it will take me.
It's that notion -- apart from simply not wanting to waste time serving -- that I believe coerced many of us to opt against serving in the trial of the first case. "Wow, he's a black man, all dressed up with a smile and a hello." Very southern, Sunday church-like. If it were a white man, we would not care as much, as adequate demeanor is expected. Almost every African American figured out a way to be excused not wanting to be part of a group that could convict this man, yet now he will find himself judged by a very non-black jury, for selling drugs to an undercover non-black cop near a non-black school. I lay torn at my decision to excuse. Regardless, I would not have deliberated fairly.
During the second case, my feelings become a little more black and white. There was no nod and smile, and I have no issues with the current stalker laws. I simply felt, as I always feel about black men: the system is so verily stacked against them in so many subtle ways that any subsequent paranoia, delusions and defensiveness should be no surprise. Our second case defendant appeared to me to be a black man who needs help. I, personally, am not for wasting the tax payers money by putting a black man in jail for tweets. He'd simply sit in his cell mentally exasperating his obsession only to come out and engage in more inappropriate tweets as he'd done after his previous jail-time. Again, my feelings on this case would be very different if he were not African American.
That was my very wrenching brush with jury service. Through this experience I've learned that I not only have no interest in sitting on a panel that could potentially sentence a black person to jail, prison or death, I could not sentence anyone to such a fate -- safe for someone who has directly hindered my personal pursuit of life, liberty and happiness.
Sometimes I sit and wonder - if others sit and wonder.
A teaming score of thunder - I've built to tear asunder
This consciousness embodied by the bot I call my body
And the soul an endless function full of fullness and disjunction
With this heart, a motor spinning powered by the vast beginnings
And this brain an ever-student geared by fleshy CP units
And my fingers making motions, tantamount to those of oceans
And my tosies just as nosie as these ears that listen closely
While these eyes they analyze; they are men of their own right
Made of creatures who in history held adequate foresight
I exist because my ancestors felt death to be a blunder
To marvel at the accidental purpose driven splendor
What is I? a resultant spring of others six feet under
Sometimes I sit and wonder - if others sit and wonder.
About M. Lachi
M. Lachi is a prolific writer, whether it be literary or musical. Having studied Management at UNC and Music at NYU, M. Lachi employs both savvies in her creative endeavors.
For more on M. Lachi's music click here.