04 November 2010
my mother and her BFF are writing a book. by which i mean they are shopping features to various southern news outlets, a process through which they hope to gain enough exposure to net a publishing deal for the book they will then write.
when my mother asks to see my query letter, i send it, along with a flurry of unsolicited practical advice on market research and building a portfolio. a list of the things croftie and i have spent the last five years learning how to do.
the first step i suggest is that they start a blog.
within five minutes, she writes back: "we are considering a blog, but neither of us wants to work that hard."
and i think, oh mercy. because i am a Writer. and i've been taught there can be no literature without a whole hell of a lot of hard work. that there is a process. there must be drafts. dues must be paid.
my whole system of beliefs is thrown up in the air if amateurs can just fumble their way in.
the scary thing is that i could be very wrong. maybe there is no way it must be done. maybe you just need such confidence in your idea that even starting a blog is too exhausting.
maybe my mother and her BFF could reel in a publishing contract for a whole book from an abstract of an article that has not yet been published. and we Writers over here, we'll all be sitting on manuscripts, blogs overflowing, unpublished, still paying our dues.
i do wonder if maybe, just maybe, we do not have to work this hard. but then, i think, really, what would be the fun in that?
filed under: biogrophiled