In Drafts, Games, Hautvoir, Local projects, Music, Poetry, Querying, Revision on January 14, 2015 at 6:17 am

If the driving ambition in your life is stardom, I suppose the opening page on the agency’s website must be a huge drawing card. In 22, 24 or 28-point script, the agency lets you know it’s in the business of making its authors’ stories best-sellers. Gazillions about to shower down. Standing ovations. The masses, awestruck by your genius. Talk shows? For sure. Baby, you can drive my car. Etc.

Fact: None of my stories will make me or an agent rich. Chances are none of my stories will ever find grace in the eyes of an agent. There’s a distinct possibility I’ll die and my stories will go down into oblivion with me.

– Good morning, and how are you today?

– I’m fine, thank you. I could have used an extra half hour of sleep before the dog asked for the door.


The last time everyone stood and sang the national anthem at the National Assembly: in 1918, after one in the massive blood lettings of recent history. The Prime Minister got four or five standing ovations yesterday. We are at war against terror, he said. Whoopee-doo. The headline era. Who gets to grab the most face time in the news. Who sets off the biggest thrill – enthusiasm or terror, whatever works best on any given day.


No, I won’t be querying anywhere that dangles the enticement of best-seller status. A waste of those good people’s time, and mine. As best I can, I’ll try to insure my stories have a reasonable chance of surviving before my life span gives out – i.e. electronic or hard copies in the care of a friend or two. Maybe a word here and there will seem worthwhile to someone some day. Maybe not.

In the overall scheme of things, a little kid that stops howling in terror and tells me time goes by so much faster when he’s playing Junior Scrabble – the kind where the word is printed out? Will do fine as my Life Achievement Award for yesterday.

We’ll see what today brings, other than hand wringing, standing ovations, and further acts of horror giving their perpetrators world-wide access to 48-point headlines.


Poetry. Music. Joking with friends. Writing, if that’s what matters for you.


P.S. No need for Zoloft and no need for Ventolin over here. Music, poetry, friends and writing work just fine.


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