“That’s cultural appropriation! You can’t do that! Shutup shutup shutup!”
“Do you think that cultures have a right to maintain their traditions, especially ones with a well-documented history going back hundreds of years? Cultural patterns which are as much part of their culture as breathing is part of your living? Cultural behavior which defines them, without which they would stop being their culture?”
“Good-o. Piss off, Asshole.” Read more
Fandoms, marketing, self-promotion, success… all the wonderful complications of becoming an author. Some people handle it better than others do. Let’s face it, in the days of Trad Pub, you could potentially be a hermit and still be successful because there was a slim chance akin to winning the lottery that the publisher would push the book even if you never faced the fans. Now? Now we have twitter mobs turned to ill gains. Look for instance at the scurrilous attempt to call Nora Roberts a plagiarist. Read more
I like pie…
Now my answer to who gets what share of the pie in publishing (actually in most things) is hey, let’s make a bigger pie.
That’s always seemed a sensible answer to me. I’ve spent years talking about ways to make reading more popular with as many people as possible. I can summarize many thousands of words into this: Give as many readers as possible what they enjoy. Help them find it, keep them coming back for more.
A rising tide floats ALL boats. Read more
It’s Tuesday once again, and that means you’re all subjected to my
rambling words of wisdom. But first! Clan Dave is doing fine (it’s fine, it’s all fine, no problems at all AT ALL). Mom Dave and Pop Dave are visiting, and have been occupying Wee Dave and Wee-er Dave. Also cleaning Castle Dave, which is doing wonders for Dave’s peace (and piece) of mind. I’ve even gotten to bugger off and loaf about write at the local caffeination establishments. I finished a short story, and about four chapters of a space opera project.
I really don’t know what to do with myself. It’s like almost all of my fondest dreams are coming true. I’m really clinging to the hope that both of the littles will be able to rock the morning pre-school gig come September. I’d get to write every day. I could set up a publishing schedule without laughing bitter tears. The world might end, or at least mine.
I woke up this morning to see that the beautiful, wealthy people at the top of the American publishing scene are telling me publishing is doing well! Whew. That’s a load off. And here, I can’t actually remember the last time I purchased a hardcopy genre novel. I suspect it was before Wee Dave was born, for a couple of reasons. First, disposable income. Second, I don’t remember a whole lot of the last four years.
Ok, the truly entertaining part of John Sargent’s (CEO of Macmillan) comments wasn’t thanking President Trump for trying to block the publication of Michael Wolff’s magnificent work of fiction Fire & Fury. (I still think the POTUS’ mobilization of the DOJ – aside from being apparently juvenile – was mostly trolling his political and cultural opponents.) Oh, no. That’s what followed, where he pulled off his gleaming helmet, wiped his noble brow, and assured us he believes “free speech … is the greatest value” in publishing. Such a paladin. I’m so glad powerful businessmen are there to defend our rights. I just wish they’d do it consistently, since that’s what they claim to be for.
Okay, guys (and gals, and others, etc.) I don’t usually go this route, but I’ve been watching things unfold from the front row, and my harping on professionalism is coming ‘round again. In short: always be yourself, always be above board, and always be a professional.
For those who aren’t aware (just decanted from a cloning tube, released from cold-storage, or been rocking the mountain-top guru gig (nice work, if you can get it)), a couple of months ago, ConCarolinas announced that Friend of the MGC and all-around good guy John Ringo had been selected as an special guest for the 2018 convention, which just wrapped up this past weekend. The internet almost immediately kersplodeyed, and the crybullies mobbed in force. All the usual suspects came swinging all the usual epithets, and everybody else got tired.