I have a tiny piece of new fiction up today at The Literary Burlesque.
I was really excited that someone liked this story enough to pick it up. A couple of editors didn’t like the fact that it’s not a “story” in the most traditional sense. That’s fine.
Recently, someone complimented me on my writing output and I felt very strange.
Writing for me isn’t a hobby nor something I do when I’m not doing other things. Writing is my job. It is work. It is the actual thing I should be doing for the rest of my life. Nobody compliments you for going to work every day. People don’t compliment you on trying to be better at your job.
Being that I’m not famous, I don’t have many books out and I do in fact work for free a lot- a lot of people in my life don’t see my writing as work. It’s not what I do to pay the bills (for the record I’m a network analyst for a telcom company) so it gets shunted into the position of hobby.
I’m also really tired of people telling me not to work for free or give my work away.
Here’s the thing.
If I were to wait until the Big Balls Publishing deal I could very well be waiting until I’m dead and haunting the fuck out of everyone.
First and foremost I write to keep my sanity as intact as I can. Secondly yes I want to get read and submitting isn’t something I go about blindly.
I don’t submit words to zines I don’t like.
When people take me to task about the money issue I just get angry. I’m not stupid nor am I mindless. It is my fucking art and I can do whatever the fuck I want to with it.
I don’t have to subscribe to anyone’s ideas of success but my own.
Is it tacky that I’m probably going to do a Where I Write Post a la The Rumpus? I really love writing about that kind of thing and remember fondly doing writing exercises based on writing about where I was writing.
I remember vividly sitting in a lunch cafe thing before work once and writing in my sparkly red journal all about the smells and all that.
It is good stuff.
I also want to start writing entries about some of my writing related habits because I have thinky thoughts about them.
Okay that’s all. The dayjob demands attention.