Following Up on My Library Submissions

Except for children's story hour, my local library is a ghost town. I know, because it's right across the street from my supermarket, so I have a bird's-eye view of the parking lot. Are libraries becoming obsolete?  

There was a time when my husband and I would visit the library, way back in the dark ages. At first we each checked out two or three books, then when the supply of interesting titles ran out, we began borrowing DVD's. Well, now there's streaming, so who watches DVD's anymore? (Actually, we still do occasionally, because we have a good collection of worthwhile movies not offered on the streaming channels.)

The last time I was inside my local library, my footsteps made a hollow echo. It was almost like being in an empty church, except I wasn't afraid I'd get yelled at by the priest for trespassing (not that I ever did that as a kid explorer). I don't have a problem with libraries transitioning to community gathering spots, with mini-classes, tech labs, something called "speaking in English" (?), book clubs, knitting circles, poetry readings (yawn), lectures. It's all free, generally, and the building's gotta be used for something.

Does this transition limit the number of books libraries acquire? It doesn't, if we're talking ebooks. Hard covers, probably. My library system uses OverDrive for its online collection, and honestly, online borrowing is the only way to go. When I was still a voracious reader, I rarely purchased books unless it was a new title I was excited about. I borrowed instead. Of course, if you didn't get to a book right away, poof! It disappeared from your Kindle. Then you'd need to get back in the queue to re-borrow it. 

All this background leads up to my quest to have my latest novel included in library collections, specifically my own local library system, plus Nashville and Wyoming. I finally checked in to see whether my pleas accomplished anything.

Well, nope, not really. Neither Nashville's nor Wyoming's central library systems are stocking it. (And really, Wyoming? Big competition for local-based books? That's like North Dakota turning down a book about North Dakota.) And after I pulled my hair out creating targeted one-sheets for each locale. 

I did receive a nice response in June from my local system:

Hi April! Thanks for reaching out to us. Our cataloging department is currently looking into ways they can add Indie Minnesota item records into our catalog. 

Thank you for contacting Hennepin County Library.
www.hclib.org/

And sure enough, my novel plus three of my novellas are now in its collection:

  

Of course, none of them have any ratings—because I'm fairly certain no one has borrowed them. My research has turned up no surefire method for determining that, but I'm pretty confident. I'm almost tempted to borrow one and rate it myself, but you know me, a Catholic guilt girl. My books do look awfully lonely, though. Maybe I should be thankful for their mere presence, just like on Amazon. 😏

This is precisely why I never go back and check on my previous efforts. It's an exercise in disappointment. (Also why I haven't checked Storygraph to see if anyone left a review.) 

I could waste psychic energy becoming indignant over other libraries' rejections, but I suspect they tend to go with traditionally published books, and who can blame them? Those books are vetted, sort of. Or at least they're somewhat known. Me? I'm a nobody. Well, maybe a pest, but a minor one, like a mosquito. 

By the way, want to see an example of the one-sheet that drove me nuts trying to fit on a single page? All that work and frustration (sob!)

Luckily, I can laugh about it now. It's really all an abject failure can do.