It confuses matters. If Traditional Publishers really were the business people they claim to be, then we would all know where we stood. We – the writers – would know that money is king, and only books that sell are worth looking at or – to be strictly accurate – worth writing! The bad news, for us, is that publishers aren't anything like as consistent as that. They also harbour strange, esoteric ambitions. They like the idea of discovering a potential Nobel Prize winner. Would the guy sell books? Dammit, it doesn't matter, they say, as long as he wins prizes. This is confusing, to say the least. Who are we dealing with? Hard nosed businessmen or dewy eyed lovers of top 'quality' fiction?

The answer, of course, is both. In these days, the early years of the 21st century, ambitious authors are being faced with the dilemma of trying to launch their wares with people who can't decide if they live in the present day or would rather be the Lords of Ladies of 250 years ago. It doesn't help. That's why I keep advising struggling authors to turn to the internet, where we can all get our books printed, bound and posted off to customers at no expense to ourselves. Then, when we're more certain that we want the life of the commercially rewarded writer, we can turn back to the confusing world of publishing and try to find the ideal publisher for us, out of the squalling morass. At least then we will have been past the thrill of seeing our precious story printed in book form; way past the lure of 'vanity publishing' and the subsidised market; and much more capable of coping with the flattery of publishers who can't currently decide if they are commercial or not. In fact, whether they are here and now or living in the past, as patrons, in the old sense.

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