I've been told that self-publishing is the kiss of death. If I want to be a real novelist — that is, one who gets paid for her efforts and receives the benefits of partners who help edit, package and publicize her books — I should bury The Blind Pig. I should take it off my website, remove it from my resume, close down this blog, and pretend the whole thing never happened.

While driving up to New Hampshire last week to run Boston Prep in the frigid near-zero temps, I was contemplating this advice (which wasn't the last word on the subject, just the most brutal). I'd already decided that I most definitely wasn't going to bury The Blind Pig. Rather, I was going to try to sell the hell out of it.

But I couldn't say why I felt so strongly about this. Was I being stubborn and inflexible? I can become pretty rigid when I'm being led somewhere I don't want to go. I can also be fiery about it. I blame my German and Irish roots.

As I drove, my iPod flipped and Billy Bragg started strumming his classic Great Leap Forward:

There I was, chiming in with what I could remember of the lyrics, and out came these words:

If no one seems to understand

Start your own revolution and cut out the middleman

Be still my heart.

Self-publishing is a publishing revolution. And like most upheavals, it is uncomfortable for everyone involved.

I can assure you that I am uncomfortable. I took a big risk by self-publishing. Some may judge The Blind Pig by it's publisher. They may assume that it didn't get picked up by a legitimate agent because it's not good enough. They may fear that it's pages are filled with bad writing, a plodding narrative and flimsy characters. They may dismiss it, their foregone conclusion that it suffers a lack of editing.

I have heard from many authors that they get pages of edits from their editors and that these revisions almost always make the book better. I'm sure my book would have benefited from more editing. Even now, with the book already "out there," I would welcome the chance to receive suggestions and to make the book better.

To me, it's all a process.

Maybe I think that way because of my software roots. I've never worked on a software project that was "done." Despite the large teams of highly-paid, over-educated engineers working long hours, the products always ship with bugs. Eventually they get fixed and packaged in a newer, better version.

I also think this way because I came to writing in a step-wise way. I didn't set out to be a writer. I didn't dream of being a writer as a child. The prospect was as absurd as being a singer (which would be more obviously absurd if you had been in the car listening to me sing the other day). Not practical. Not for sensible folks.

When I did start writing, I didn't set out to write fiction. And then when I started writing fiction, I didn't expect to get anywhere. I certainly didn't expect to fall in love with it. And when I self-published, I didn't think I could earn a living as a novelist. I just wanted to share my book. Now, however, I know that I want to write novels for a living. I would never have gotten here, to this moment of realization, if I hadn't self-published The Blind Pig.

This is my path. I'm paving it with a mix of discomfort, agitation and hope, and I'm waiting for my great leap forward.