Dear Ms. Cariker,
“Thank you for your submission to our editorial. We were overwhelmed by the quality of the entries this year, and had a difficult time narrowing down the group of finalists. While we appreciated the chance to read your work, unfortunately your piece was not selected as a finalist this year. We hope you will submit blah blah blah.”
After reading the hundredth or so rejection letter, I closed the computer and opened a bottle of wine. Yes, I was going to drink the entire bottle. Yes, I planned on sulking and no, I wasn’t going to do it alone. That is what friends are for.
I made the call, he brought reinforcements – cheese, more wine and the like – and consoled me in my stupor with pep-talks of “This is part of the process” and “Why don’t you self publish.” To which, of course, I responded, “Self published authors are floundering for an outlet to sell their blood sweat and tears!”
We looked at each other. Our glassy eyes widened and, without exchange of words, I bought the domain.
That was my light bulb moment. I would build a community that would empower authors to sell their words directly to their readers.
So who are we? Indipenit isn’t a person, it is a space created by readers and writers for readers and writers. It is a world of virtual bookstores generated and administered by the artists themselves. A community of writers who seek to empower independent authors around the world to publish, promote and sell their own work, whereby connecting the reader directly to the writer.
You are Indipenit.