What am I wearing? Clothes. As far as YOU’RE concerned.
Hey, I got to pondering a while back: when it comes to extreme sports I used to think, wow, how gnarly are those who fling themselves out of airplanes and snowboard their way on back down to Earth?
Then it hit me: where’s the daring in that?
They don’t FEAR that stuff; heck’s it’s on everything they wear! NO FEAR this, NO FEAR that. Yeah, it might scare the crap out of some of us, but to those few who repeat said acts, it just ain’t no big thang. Show me a dude with an I’M AFEARED sticker slapped on his rig, tripping out of an airplane at 20,000 feet, and I’ll show you unmitigated GUTS.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
So, thought I (I do this a lot), why not apply same said logica to writers? You know what I’m talking about. Yeah, all those fancy pants writers, with names like King, King, Hill (King), Grisham, Kellerman, King (sorry, got carried away, but he does still have other progeny in the wings), Crais, Patterson, et cetera. Yeah, look at them, writing all their fancy books. Making all their fancy money. Whoop-de-fancy-do, right? Well, let me tell you a little secret (and you can call it The Secret, if you’d like, I won’t tell...it’s a SECRET...)...all those Famous Writer’s pen all those Famous Books cause they CAN.
That’s right. Cause they CAN.
And THEY get all the admiration. All the praise. Air time.
Where’s the daring-do in that?
Where the daring-do IS, is with guys and gals like me, and probably YOU. You think any of those Fancy Pants Authors could NOT do it, not write? Heck, no, they’re in it for the long haul, baby. They’re addicted to the money. The writing high. The champagne and caviar. It would take guts to do that, to stop writing (okay, King [the first one] did actually say he was retiring--so THAT took some guts, but he was lying, as we all found out--which is what fiction writers do best, so who can fault the guy on that one, right?). It would take...DARING.
And where, you ask, would we find such intrepid daring do? Such guts and chutzpah?
Those of you out there who can outsmart me are already onto it: the STRUGGLING NO NAME WRITER. That’s right, we stick to it even though we’ve no following. No money. No air time. We have to resort to writing at weird hours to mitigate the Family Effect; resort to near-spam-like e-mails to friends and family. Enemies. The Pizza Guy. Placing our short stories in no-pay zines (and some bathroom stalls--hey, captive readership, right?).
We even--shiver!--read our stories OUT LOUD to ourselves, so we can delude ourselves into believing we have an audience at say, BoucherCon, or while receiving our Authorly Life Time Awards.
We...are a sad lot.
Yet we persevere!
Many of us are outright AFRAID of success. We don’t tell anyone this, cause it’s like, blasphemous, yo? Whack. But we are. Many of us don’t really believe in ourselves, our abilities. We think, if we’re not selling, not getting picked up by the Big Dogs...we suck. So many also quit after some soul-deadening attempts--and I’m not gonna lie to ya, I’m all for that. Keeps down the competition. More room for me. All about me. Cleans out the Gene Pool. You’ve heard all the lines.
But what it all comes down to is this: us underdogs, we badass. We keep doing it cause we’re daring. How many other peeps or occupations can you enumerate where someone beats their head against the bloody, barb-lined wall doing the same thing...OVER and OVER...and OVER...with no recompense, no remuneration? There aren’t any I can think of--nor of which will allow myself (I’m trying to make a point here). No, writers, small time folk like me and all the rest of you out there--and you know who you are, cause no one else does--we keep fighting the good fight cause we’re daring and got guts. We put our Writer Caps on backward and sport I’M AFEARED on all our apparel (mine’s tattooed on my soul, and someplace else I ain’t tellin). Those other fellas, it ain’t nothing to them, cause they CAN. WE’RE the ones who the public should be clamoring for, the ones the public should look up to and go “Ooh...Ahhh,” WE’RE the ones, baby. Our Public should write letters to HarperCollins, Random, S&S, and all the rest crying for US!
F. P. Dorchak! Karen Lin! Charlie Rush! Teresa R. Funke!
I toss down the glove and challenge all readers (and writers, heck, it’s what you do) to start the Underdog Struggling Up-and-coming-author Campaign (USUC). Ask the publishers of your books to forego the next sure-fire bestsellers, cause, afterall, we all know they will be bestsellers, and take a dare on one of us. Buy one of OUR manuscripts. Show some guts, for crying out loud, and not be publishing that next manuscript only cause it’s got the name “King” or Grisham” on it. Or Hill (King). See if they (the publishers) have what it takes to CREATE a new bestseller out of one of us.
Yeah, I like the sound of that.
So, go on, now, get on those websites of your favorite or not-so-favorite publishers, find their addresses, and DELUGE them with a Triple-Dog Dare. We can do it, if we ALL get together. Show them the market is out there for new blood. I think we can do it. But you gotta help me...cause USUC.
