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So, in the past several months, two new bookstores have opened in my real life vicinity. On the one hand, you could assume that I, a seasoned bookdragon, would be absolutely thrilled about this. And I truly wish I could be. Because, on the other, I have discovered that neither of these places makes me feel welcome.

What?! How!? I hear you cry. After all, yes, I’ve been at this authoring thing for almost 8 years, I’ve been reading and honing my love and appreciation of literature for much longer than that, and no, I’m not well-known, but my books exist on Barnes & Noble’s online catalog, and that is nothing to sniff at. So, why wouldn’t I feel included at a bookstore?

Well, let’s start with Store A. (I’m not in the business of public shaming, so everything here remains anonymous; the point is the behavior and the mindset.) Back when Store A first opened, they launched a website, newsletter, and social media page, insisting they wanted to reach out to the community and draw in readers, writers, and publishers. I signed up for the newsletter, filled out the contact form, and began following the social media feed. In about a six-week span, I had been unsubscribed from the emails (yeah, I know…), no one ever responded to my contact details, and their posts stopped showing up on my timeline.

At first, I was gobsmacked. I had literally never done anything to this place, never spoken to the owners, never even set foot on the premises. (I think I’d brought up the store in conversation with someone at a library program once, and it was neutral.) Whereas seeing those posts about upcoming events and author Q&A and publishing workshops at Store A initially gave me sparks of joy and excitement, now felt like huge doors slammed in my face, cold, stark, and baseless rejections that stung terribly.

But after a bit, I drew in many deep breaths, adopted a, “Okay, screw you, then” attitude, and moved on. Store B — whose opening had been delayed more than once — had finally started accepting customers; and, to their credit, they did get back to me (at first) about joining their schedule of planned author events. After my most recent experience, I tamped down my hopes (which is pretty soul-crushing in itself), and quietly prayed for the best.

In the meantime, I went to Store B and checked it out. I attended a couple of events. It felt…weird. …Yup, weird. The inventory was very limited. The space was quite small. Just navigating the crowd/chairs/tables/frilly decor to find an open two inches to stand and peruse the shelf you’ve spent 10 minutes trying to get to…only to find you’ve read 90% of them, and could easily obtain the rest from the library…and that all titles were full retail price…was not a satisfying time.

The other, big thing that jumped out at me about Store B’s stock was…not a single indie author. It was all big names, ones I easily recognized or was at least previously acquainted with. Initially, I applied the benefit of the doubt; after all, a brand new business wouldn’t have a huge catalog from every single spectrum of publishing right off the bat…Right…?

However, after attending the events, I knew, for certain, that there was a distinct bias towards trad pub and small presses being “more legit” than self-publishing. The astounding level of ignorance among the audience about how one might release a book (meaning, they were all convinced finding an agent was the ONLY way); and the flabbergasting level of arrogance displayed by authors (meaning, that was the ONLY way they accepted as proper) made me not-metaphorically nauseous. I was almost embarrassed that I’d ever reached out to this place.

(By the way, my contact with Store B went from sporadic to completely dropping off about a month ago. I’m pretty sure they’ve forgotten all about me, and it is not a fun feeling.)

And here’s where I get to the crux of the biscuit and lay out the ugliness of it all: Bookstores need to stop playing these games. Indie authors are just as valid and important as trad pub. Readers who prefer indie titles are just as important and needed and as those who focus on mainstream releases. Indicating (however subtly) that one is superior to the other will drive a further wedge between the trad and indie camps. In about a decade, indie authors have gone from being seen as a serious contender in the industry to considered subpar, untalented hacks releasing vanity projects to stoke our ego. This damaging perspective will drive self-publishing dreams back to the dark ages — and for no good reason.

We’ve become, again, the outsiders in a field we thought we’d conquered. We indies find ourselves scrambling to hold onto the respect we thought was now guaranteed. When I first took the plunge and made a Nook Press account (and underwent the formatting nightmare for the first of many times), I received mountains of praise for my courage, and achievement. But bit by bit, I’ve seen the support fade for so many of us, the cheerleaders drift off, and the skepticism and cynical takes return, and it’s not okay.

I’m so tired of being the outsider.