We, who choose to stick words together and call them stories, know that there’s no end to them. Days where you can’t find any words, sure. But they never go away entirely. That’s why they call us writers. If we could make the words go away – and trust me when I say most of us have thought that would be nice, a time or two or even three – we wouldn’t be writers.
There are as many ways to attach words into this spiky ball we call a story as there are words, which leads to more iterations than I have the math for at any time, not just because I’m stringing this batch up before coffee. Coffee hot. You know, I could put an ice cube in there…
Caffeinated beverage drinkable, cat patted because she insisted, back to the words. The problem here isn’t the ability to string them into something a reader might find not only coherent, but enjoyable. That’s something that takes practice, an open mind to critique, and a willingness to admit those words might not be the best choice. Writing isn’t for the public. On the other hand, if you want to be an author. Well. That is different.
Being an author isn’t quite the same as being a writer. Now, you not only have to make with the words, there is marketing, and taxes, and it gets rather overwhelming at times. Because you’ve just stepped into the role of entrepreneur. I don’t care if you are ‘traditionally’ published. You’re not an employee of the publishing house (and given most of those pay for peanuts, if at all, you’re glad you aren’t), you are the owner of potentially valuable intellectual property which, mystifyingly, is some of those strung-together words you tapped out in the middle of the night when you woke up and couldn’t sleep until you’d pulled them out of your head. Just because you can’t help writing, doesn’t mean your work has no value.
Being an author means thinking about markets, how to find them, and what kind of words they like to see set up all pretty like a mosaic on a Pompeiian wall. For some authors this means writing to the taste of editors at publishing houses. For others, it’s looking for readers who like to consume the same things the writer enjoys creating. Finding that niche, or even more exciting, opening a new sub-genre, isn’t easy. It is, however, hugely rewarding to have happen to you. I’ve seen it with two writers I know, one of whom did it on purpose, the other is a trifle bewildered as she wasn’t trying to create anything other than stories she enjoyed writing and reading. I know which of those two I’d prefer being.
Most of us? We can choose: writer, or author? and that makes a difference in how you approach it. Once you start down that author path, though, I’ll warn you. It’s a lot of work. Me, I’m of the opinion that hard work leads to worthwhile things. I mean… easy would be nice. But I know better. In a head full of words, sometimes finding even one is difficult.
(Header image: Pompeiian spaceships by Cedar Sanderson, rendered by MidJourney)
Mad Genius Club 
Ah, the complications of life
I’m having a fatigue-induced lull in Story today. It will pass once the fatigue passes – all my spare brain cells not dedicated to Day Job are consumed by the tiny details of music, the details that turn “not bad” into “moves Earth and Heaven as the composer intended.” It takes a lot of hard work, and frustration, and re-doing and editing and labor until the magic happens. And even then, I don’t always sense it.
But the audience does. And that’s when it’s worth the work.
It was always a mystery to me why the Chorfs went “Full-Retard” on Sad Puppies. It seemed ridiculous that they’d go to such lengths, far beyond even what real loathing would generate on its own.
Also, the absurd dumping of Fellow Travelers like the Rocket Stank Rack [no free advert for you] thing where the RSR boys were suddenly UNCLEAN because of an honest and pretty fair review of some pampered WorldCon pet’s really boring short story. They called down hellfire on a guy who was solidly on their team for no reason.
I assumed there was money involved somehow, but I couldn’t imagine how. The Hugos and Nebulas being a stepping stone to an academic posting, suddenly it all made sense. Actual money doesn’t always change hands, sometimes it is influence peddling.
Corruption, by any other name is still stank.
Since there’s money involved, it makes me want to go after them again. Only harder. Hammer and tongs, baby. Really f- over their respectability forever, and hit them in their wallets. That’s where it hurts the most. (Except the knee. That hurts more. ~:D )
Did something new happen?
They’ve decided they need to go after Baen’s Bar again. It seems the barflies are all domestic terrorists, you know. The usual suspects have the usual bullroar. I won’t give them a free click, but lets just say the Chinese ‘bot farmer and his vile bog of scum and villainy is clutching their pearls madly. Oh the humanity.
Interesting development, the apparatchik who originally tweeted the ghastly terroristic goings on at BB has been thrown into Twittler Jail. His account is suspended, something that is only supposed to happen to Conservatives.
New Rules are a beeotch.
I hear the sound of the World’s Smallest Violin™ tuning up. *beatificly evil kitty grin*
Yes indeed. Since Elon decided he wanted to buy Twittler, all kinds of things are coming unstuck for the Bluebird of Evil.
Today I see that Twittler’s former head of cybersecurity has come forward with evidence that Twittler doesn’t really have much security, it plays games with its customer’s privacy, it has essentially no bot/spam control, and doesn’t care about the bots. All illegal too, per FCC regulations. He also alleges they lied to congress, and that they’re lying in court with Elon’s lawsuit. Beauty!
In this maelstrom of BS, the New Rules work even better. They don’t have time or energy to check for friendly fire, as it were. One complaint gets the haterz shut down just like they were Conservatives.