Congratulations! Let's talk audiobooks sometime. More and more people are listening rather than reading. I prefer reading like you but I love telling stories out loud.
"It’s not easy being this out of sync...." Tell me about it. My muse drinks sloe gin fizzes, eats three-day-old cold veggie pizza topped with peanut M&Ms and fires spit wads at the back of my head like a recalcitrant fourth-grader. I'd like to slap the sumbitch, but I'd have to catch him first, and I'm too damned old and slow. And so I put up with the abuse because it's easier than wasting time trying to trick the little bastard so I can force him into a trash compactor.
Did that seem a bit too overly aggressive? I certainly hope so, 'cuz damned if I don't have some unresolved anger-FUCKING-management issues with my muse. Fortunately, I can usually manage to shut he/she/it (I don't even know what the Hell the thing's pronouns are) up by writing obsessively in my basement.
I may never sell anything, but then again I don't have to. I've self-published a book, I have my own Substack, and I've gotten a boatload of positive feedback about my writing. I write because I'm possessed...er, obsessed...er, half-crazed and I can no more not write than not breathe. I'm not certain that's a good thing, but at least it's safe and it's legal.
I ended my 20-year-old blog on this date last year, and began my Substack on May 4th. So, far, I think only my family, friends, and a few heavily medicated residents of the Oregon State Hospital read it, but in time I'll rule the world. You just wait.
I'm big into self-delusion like that. :-)
BTW, I've long-since forgotten how I stumbled across Cappuccino, but I'm glad I did. Your long-distance friendship and support has been invaluable and greatly appreciated. The fact that you're also a helluva writer doesn't hurt.
I am truly your biggest fan, Jack. I'm so glad to know you, too! Amazing how well you can get to know a person just by reading their musings. And BTW, did you say peanut M&Ms on that pizza? If I had a bag of those, I'd up-end the whole damn thing in my mouf.
I opened my backpack this morning to get my MacBook...and what did I find but a bag of Peanut M&Ms. Share size, even...'cept that if anyone thinks I'm sharing this unanticipated treasure with them, they clearly don't appreciate my passion for Peanut M&Ms.
This got me thinking about the parallels between characters in my own attempts at fiction. Not altogether pleased about that (the parallels, I mean. The thinking is just that.) My scholarly successes pay even less than Romance fiction, but within an admittedly small (international) community I am very well known and respected.
As far as burning this shit down, I'd have to win the lottery first, and I've a much better chance of being struck by lightning. (Over the course of any given year, the odds are 1-in-1,220,000. I had cause to look it up when I was looking into COVID-19 vaccine risks.)
Samuel R. Delany -- sci-fi & fantasy author, more lately college professor -- has observed that if genre fiction was evaluated on the same scale as so-called "mainstream", it would absolutely command the best-sellers lists. But authors in those genres are paid pittances because their work is not considered "respectable," even though it out sells the supposedly "important" work by furlongs.
Congratulations! Let's talk audiobooks sometime. More and more people are listening rather than reading. I prefer reading like you but I love telling stories out loud.
And you are SO very good at it!
"It’s not easy being this out of sync...." Tell me about it. My muse drinks sloe gin fizzes, eats three-day-old cold veggie pizza topped with peanut M&Ms and fires spit wads at the back of my head like a recalcitrant fourth-grader. I'd like to slap the sumbitch, but I'd have to catch him first, and I'm too damned old and slow. And so I put up with the abuse because it's easier than wasting time trying to trick the little bastard so I can force him into a trash compactor.
Did that seem a bit too overly aggressive? I certainly hope so, 'cuz damned if I don't have some unresolved anger-FUCKING-management issues with my muse. Fortunately, I can usually manage to shut he/she/it (I don't even know what the Hell the thing's pronouns are) up by writing obsessively in my basement.
I may never sell anything, but then again I don't have to. I've self-published a book, I have my own Substack, and I've gotten a boatload of positive feedback about my writing. I write because I'm possessed...er, obsessed...er, half-crazed and I can no more not write than not breathe. I'm not certain that's a good thing, but at least it's safe and it's legal.
I ended my 20-year-old blog on this date last year, and began my Substack on May 4th. So, far, I think only my family, friends, and a few heavily medicated residents of the Oregon State Hospital read it, but in time I'll rule the world. You just wait.
I'm big into self-delusion like that. :-)
BTW, I've long-since forgotten how I stumbled across Cappuccino, but I'm glad I did. Your long-distance friendship and support has been invaluable and greatly appreciated. The fact that you're also a helluva writer doesn't hurt.
I am truly your biggest fan, Jack. I'm so glad to know you, too! Amazing how well you can get to know a person just by reading their musings. And BTW, did you say peanut M&Ms on that pizza? If I had a bag of those, I'd up-end the whole damn thing in my mouf.
I opened my backpack this morning to get my MacBook...and what did I find but a bag of Peanut M&Ms. Share size, even...'cept that if anyone thinks I'm sharing this unanticipated treasure with them, they clearly don't appreciate my passion for Peanut M&Ms.
This got me thinking about the parallels between characters in my own attempts at fiction. Not altogether pleased about that (the parallels, I mean. The thinking is just that.) My scholarly successes pay even less than Romance fiction, but within an admittedly small (international) community I am very well known and respected.
As far as burning this shit down, I'd have to win the lottery first, and I've a much better chance of being struck by lightning. (Over the course of any given year, the odds are 1-in-1,220,000. I had cause to look it up when I was looking into COVID-19 vaccine risks.)
Samuel R. Delany -- sci-fi & fantasy author, more lately college professor -- has observed that if genre fiction was evaluated on the same scale as so-called "mainstream", it would absolutely command the best-sellers lists. But authors in those genres are paid pittances because their work is not considered "respectable," even though it out sells the supposedly "important" work by furlongs.
You know, if you did win the lottery, I'd be overjoyed. That money would be well spent, I already know.
Being an author these days is just like that: one in a million hits the jackpot. The rest of us suck a tailpipe.