Last March, I attended a Pitch Conference in New York that made me feel old and invisible and sad. "No one wants to read about middle-aged people experiencing middle-aged angst..." One of the twenty somethings, DB, was pitching a book idea that was nothing more than a series of plagiarized ideas strung together -- even the title was borrowed. I felt that anything I said would come across as sour grapes, so I said nothing.
When I came back, I downloaded a sample of one of DB's books. It wasn't that great. Overblown and melodramatic; the writing was raw and the plot was derivative. I followed his posts for a little while, but stopped when he announced "What gives??? I can't even get my douchebag friends to buy my books!"
Huh.
Two things.
1. If I have to rely on my friends and family to support my writing habit, I'm pretty much guaranteed that I won't make the mortgage payment.
2. Calling your friend douchebags reveals more about yourself than your friends. Maybe hidden in that comment is a clue as to why you don't have the support you crave. Ya think???
No comments:
Post a Comment