I realize that tis the season but, I am sincerely and entirely vexed when authors I know on a personal level decide that since we’re cool like that they can start selling me things or vying for my undying support financially for their projects.
Everyone has a kickstarter, everyone is doing some kind of funding thing.
I did one once and it was such an awkward awful experience for me I will probably not do that again.
The thing that bugs me is the expectation that I personally, (not conjecture this has been said to me) am being a selfish butthole if I don’t help X person get their book, film, tour, other art thing off the ground and running.
I am also vexed by getting emails from people I maybe worked with years ago that are addressed to me on a personal level and are only tools for hey buy my book, share my book whatever without even a pretense at saying maybe, hi Shannon how are you? It’s been a while. You know, politeness.
I am also vexed by the fact that during The Great Harddrive Calamity of 2012 I lost some valuable things that I would really liked to have finished. I’ve found snippets and tidbits of them in my other internet hidey holes but not the finished works.
Tomorrow I’m going to write about more words of the new year. I’m almost finished reading The June Issue of Everyday Genius. Today I have an essay to finish about my relationship to performative Blackness, I have another one that is almost done about the howling terror that is me when I am writing non fiction. I will probably run that one here because I’m not famous enough to have craft essays published I think.
No seriously, I am still shit scared when it comes to essays because they are all so fucking personal and they bleed. They bleed and it feels fatal and I know it’s not but, right.
Suffice to say, writing about a lot of things fucks me up for a while.
And yet I keep doing it.
Please, spank me again Mistress.
Okay that’s all for now I have more work to do.