household changes; project optimism
It's done: Robin is moved in. While Kimmie and I headed out to the IHOP in New West, and then to Ikea in Coquitlam to buy another Billy shelving unit, this time for her sewing-room, Robin's desk and chest of drawers were loaded into a truck by a couple of movers that Trevor knows. They were just getting the desk in the front door as we arrived back home.
Kim and I focused on getting stuff out of the house: we took two carloads down to the Salvation Army store, where vehicles were jammed in the lane at the back, unloading unwanted chattels on the harried volunteers (or maybe they're employees--the Sally Ann store charges enough for their old junk now). We finally parted with the bicycles we bought in 1990, my blue 5-speed and Kimmie's red 6-speed. Kimmie has just reorganized the little unfinished basement space we still call the small storage room; it's looking clean and spacious without the old bikes hanging from ceiling-hooks.
Robin, moving at her characteristic pace of a placid millpond, puts things away in her still-crammed reclaimed bedroom, still painted the cheerful yellow Kimmie put on the walls when Robin moved out 2 years ago.
Over our omelettes, hash browns, and, in my case, side of pancakes (all very good--and I didn't finish mine) this morning, I talked to Kimmie about my recent findings about the publishing industry (in large part due to the educating influence of the Grumpy Old Bookman).
"It might be depressing," I said, cutting energetically at the cheese, bacon, and mushrooms of my omelette, "but I like to know what's happening in an industry. I like business--even if I'm on the getting-shafted end. I'm not one of those starry-eyed, impractical artists."
I related GOB's description of how supermarkets and other big retailers are putting pressure on publishers to offer them more for less, which pressure will inevitably be passed on to the weakest link in the bookmaking chain--the writer. What else is new? Artists were born to suffer--it's part of our mystique. (I always appreciate the scene in Sunset Boulevard in which William Holden's writer character, catching up with his agent on the golf course, begs him for some money, only to be told that writers do their best work under pressure--"and please get out of my light for this putt.")
"I like thinking about how I'll market my book," I said. "It has some strong elements. Sure, it's massive--"
"But that's a good thing," said Kimmie. "I like to get lost in a book."
"Right--if you're enjoying it, you don't want it to end," I said. "And the birth of Christianity angle has appeal. Maybe not for Bible-thumpers--not my unorthodox treatment--but for the many others who are interested and curious about that time."
"Yeah, and who don't want to read piles of books," said Kimmie, "or go to university just to find that stuff out."
"Right. Plus, it's conceived as a series. Harry Potter might have done great as a one-off, but the fact that it's a series gives it extra power. It can keep bringing new people in."
I may not be a high-profile author like Pamela Anderson or Paris Hilton, but I believe I don't have to sink into the quicksand of the mid-list. My project will be able to generate "heat."
Whatever fate awaits me, I feel driven to do this, so do it I will. If that means no sales, big sales, or some other strange twist, I will do it anyway. The gods will decide what's to become of it and of me.
Kim and I focused on getting stuff out of the house: we took two carloads down to the Salvation Army store, where vehicles were jammed in the lane at the back, unloading unwanted chattels on the harried volunteers (or maybe they're employees--the Sally Ann store charges enough for their old junk now). We finally parted with the bicycles we bought in 1990, my blue 5-speed and Kimmie's red 6-speed. Kimmie has just reorganized the little unfinished basement space we still call the small storage room; it's looking clean and spacious without the old bikes hanging from ceiling-hooks.
Robin, moving at her characteristic pace of a placid millpond, puts things away in her still-crammed reclaimed bedroom, still painted the cheerful yellow Kimmie put on the walls when Robin moved out 2 years ago.
Over our omelettes, hash browns, and, in my case, side of pancakes (all very good--and I didn't finish mine) this morning, I talked to Kimmie about my recent findings about the publishing industry (in large part due to the educating influence of the Grumpy Old Bookman).
"It might be depressing," I said, cutting energetically at the cheese, bacon, and mushrooms of my omelette, "but I like to know what's happening in an industry. I like business--even if I'm on the getting-shafted end. I'm not one of those starry-eyed, impractical artists."
I related GOB's description of how supermarkets and other big retailers are putting pressure on publishers to offer them more for less, which pressure will inevitably be passed on to the weakest link in the bookmaking chain--the writer. What else is new? Artists were born to suffer--it's part of our mystique. (I always appreciate the scene in Sunset Boulevard in which William Holden's writer character, catching up with his agent on the golf course, begs him for some money, only to be told that writers do their best work under pressure--"and please get out of my light for this putt.")
"I like thinking about how I'll market my book," I said. "It has some strong elements. Sure, it's massive--"
"But that's a good thing," said Kimmie. "I like to get lost in a book."
"Right--if you're enjoying it, you don't want it to end," I said. "And the birth of Christianity angle has appeal. Maybe not for Bible-thumpers--not my unorthodox treatment--but for the many others who are interested and curious about that time."
"Yeah, and who don't want to read piles of books," said Kimmie, "or go to university just to find that stuff out."
"Right. Plus, it's conceived as a series. Harry Potter might have done great as a one-off, but the fact that it's a series gives it extra power. It can keep bringing new people in."
I may not be a high-profile author like Pamela Anderson or Paris Hilton, but I believe I don't have to sink into the quicksand of the mid-list. My project will be able to generate "heat."
Whatever fate awaits me, I feel driven to do this, so do it I will. If that means no sales, big sales, or some other strange twist, I will do it anyway. The gods will decide what's to become of it and of me.
posted by paulv at
5:21 PM
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