A Book Appears Yonder
I am excited to announce that I’ve hit the “go” button on my book. As I await the physical proof, a project lasting 5 years comes to an anticlimactic end. I do have some cursory thoughts though…
The cover turned out great!
I regret the mood in which I wrote the Foreward for Turing’s Miscellany, which was decidedly catty. The catharsis of finishing something notwithstanding, I could have processed my emotions with greater tact. Turing’s Miscellany was characteristically difficult to finish, if only because I set the bar too high for myself. Like Goku accidentally training in 100x earth’s gravity, I emerged from the experience with enhanced stamina, eventually, only it took far too long to attain. If I learned one thing, it’s that, while we want to wake up to write for fun, it’s another altogether to wake up to write because it has to happen. And that takes a whole different kind of commitment.
One of the strange things about spending such an inordinate amount of time on something is the grim realization that, statistically speaking, it was time well wasted. That is, according to the dictates of the age, it wasn’t personally lucrative or capable of establishing independent wealth. (Oh! To reach financial independence through writing, where the ability to continue unabated isn’t continually interrupted by pesky things like “holding down a dayjob”.) Success is elusive and altogether rare in the self-published author space. And the fact that I have to become some kind of social media whore to sell my personality (definitely not as good as my books) and thereby generate revenue, makes that reality all the more difficult for me to conceive of.
A while back (2011-ish), I was in my friend’s bedroom in Carlsbad, looking over his shoulder at his current portfolio of books that he was pushing through for the publishing company he worked for. I saw the profit and loss table, seeing exactly how much a book cost to make, distribute, and ultimately (hopefully) sell. Based on what I saw, I estimated that an author probably was “doing pretty well” if they were making about $40,000 a year in royalties. To put that into perspective, Noozhawk released an article last year saying that a household making $98,000 in Santa Barbara County is considered “low income”. Again, it’s not about the money, but if I want to pursue it with greater freedom, it has to be at least considered in some way or another. Another thing to consider: ideally book sales occur due to the overall quality demonstrated in the story and the characters. Making a quality book takes time and, as we get older, our writing gains a certain three-dimensionality due to increased life experience. The stories get better, the stakes get more authentic, the characters get increased autonomy, and so on. That my literary heroes didn’t “make it” until their late 50s is a painful reality that I’ve grown reasonably comfortable with, if only because with every book I write, I’ll be able to capture more closely what I’m imagining.
That’s the hope, at least.
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Sublime.
I recently got some art back from the framers and placed it proudly upon my walls. I discovered Beetle Moses on Instagram last year and made a pact with myself that I would buy at least 4 of his prints. He was so thankful he threw in some stickers and another free of charge! If you have a moment, go to his website and buy his art (link above). It’s beautifully absurd and wonderfully crafted.
I put this in the bathroom. Worth! It!
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Lastly, if anyone out there knows of a good way to engage with others through a non-civilization-ending social media platform, let me know. I’ve heard good things about Bluesky, but I still have my suspicions.
~SW
