Almost two years ago, now, I started work on my first concerted effort to write a novel. That has hit bumps, considering my brain grew attached to the idea of not getting too far ahead of the editor. The editor, whom I did not realize would get busy and grind to a total halt, overall. So that book is pretty much done on the first draft but doing nothing in finalizing. Since then, I have started the second and third books, writing various scenes and jotting down, fleshing out plot scenarios.
Now, a few weeks ago, I was discussing said book with a friend. I had mentioned opening the book with a blowjob scene to push off the people who weren’t into that sort of thing. That way, they wouldn’t get hooked in then become furious the first time graphic sex began. I figure it was an act of kindness.
His reaction, though, was excitement and asking if he could read some of the sex scenes. I fired some off to him and he was overjoyed. He told me about some of his friends who write and sell on Amazon. He discussed how most of it was crap and he got bored reading it because it was never varied as far as words used for body parts. It also wasn’t interesting regarding story line. He told me how much money they made and insisted I had to get into it.
I didn’t have to be told anything after how much money they were making mixed with his description of the way they wrote. I had already heard of that sort of writing by the person editing that very book. She would push me to stop using a variety of words and terms because that’s not what “the target audience” wants. Well, apparently, they’re thirsty as hell for it. So I’m jumping in.
Also, I’m publishing a lot of my old stuff that’s been sitting around because, why wouldn’t I?
This makes me various degrees of happy. One of which spawns from the fact I wrote a short story that I had stuck in my head, only 8 pages or so, Monday night. Tuesday I showed it to a few people and two different people made changes to it / suggestions. And by the end of the night I can have the ball rolling on publishing it. I never got into trying to have anything published because the majority of what I saw were scams. As my mom had her “poetry published” but was too proud to admit that it was just a blanket effort to get as many people together in a book as they could, then charge an insane price for the book. I did the math once and the amount each person pays for the book, the publisher would be making 80% profit on the cost of the book, going by the median price of several companies doing printing at the time for that type of book. I never told mom, but I think she kind of knew when she got the book, saw how massive it was, and put that together with the price she paid per copy.
This changes everything. Though, I’m expecting nothing more than a lot of my stuff being out there in text format and not selling, just like my music does. The only thing I worry about is that deep part of my brain, buried under years of piling empty alcohol and condom wrappers on it, that is yelling “YOU ARE JUST ADDING TO THE WHITE NOISE SERIOUS READERS HAVE TO WADE THROUGH TO LOCATE THE SHIT WORTH READING.” Shut the fuck up, you.