Monday, October 1, 2012

I found an article which summarizes pain:

Imagine you are a cellist in an orchestra, and there are a million million orchestras, so no one ever comes to your concerts.  Then, imagine that the orchestra consists of one cello.  You are playing a piece you scored yourself, over a period of years, called "Ultimate Truth."  And you realize, in the pit of your stomach, no one will ever hear this music.  That is what it is to be a writer of speculative fiction in today's market.

Having "something to say" (versus being one of the legions who write hackneyed fluff) makes it even worse.

I dedicate this blog post to the million million writers who have no choice but to pick up the bow and play.  For them it is too late.  Don't quit your day jobs.  Plan on changing the world, one rejection notice at a time.

More to follow.

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