Dear Reader, Issue 7, Volume 2
To what end?
Dear Reader:
I participated in a local author fair held by our township’s library this past weekend. We have a fantastic library system in our little slice of America, and I’m very thankful for it. To be tabling with my fantasy and science fiction short story collection, The Stars Will Fall, in the same library where we have taken our children since they were toddlers is a special accomplishment.
My wife and teenage daughter came to visit, and I found myself reminiscing about the weekends we would spend choosing the best books to read together, while my son gravitated immediately to the “educational” computer games. She still reads. He still plays games. I had no doubts about that outcome.
While my family shares in the journey, the path is primarily one of my own choosing. The writing is my thing. It offers them some satisfaction, but the purpose is my own and if I’m being responsible, I’m the only one that must deal with the self-doubt and the measurement of outcomes. Lately, the question of outcomes has turned a corner, and I’m refreshed to discover they still matter, but with little capitalistic intensity.
At the author fair, I made about $6, and that will be in the negatives if I count the book being released in June that I want to buy, written by another author tabling near me. I bought one book while there and sold two (to other authors at the fair), which means financially speaking it was a loss. In previous years that would constitute a shift in direction, a re-thinking of strategies and I would be left wondering, to what end am I doing this?
The Greater Gain
Financial gain used to be the only focus. I won’t lie — I still keep a spreadsheet of my profits and expenditures, and it prevents my hobbies from becoming unduly expensive. But if there is no ascent toward best seller status, or I’m unable to change careers, then I still embrace the valuable lessons learned. The end, whatever it may be, is a lot more ambiguous, and has benefits I may never see until years later.
In relationship to the author fair, I got to meet some wonderful authors. Sitting to my left were Elizabeth Rice and Pat Commins, who wrote Irish Immigrants in Michigan. Pat is from Dublin, has a wonderful Irish accent, and they gave away tea with the purchase of every book. Sitting to my right was Kimberly Paulson, a lawyer, who wrote a mystery murder thriller called Byline, and who was kind enough to share about her journey writing the book, being published by an imprint and traveling to local author fairs.
I also spoke with Stan Williams, who wrote The Wizard Clip Haunting, and who shared with me a wealth of detail about his publication journey through Amazon and a small press. He’s also a Hollywood script writing consultant with a Ph.D., and had some fantastic anecdotes. Last, but not least, I spoke with Donovan M. Neal, who wrote The Third Heaven series and who definitely had his act together. I can tell Donovan is an old pro at traveling the book circuit.
There were nearly forty other authors that I never got a chance to speak with, but I suspect all of them are just as eager to share with fellow authors. The librarian who managed the event, Maria, was also incredibly helpful. She advised me on the best way to get my next book added to library networks, and I’m finally comfortable with a future approach.
I would be content if that next book never happened. If this were my only author fair, if I never wrote another book, and if I disappeared into relative obscurity, it does not steal or taint my good memories. As I get older, it becomes clear that financial prosperity is a welcome byproduct of living a dream, but is not necessary to keep the dream alive. There are other factors at play.
I get it. That’s not the case for everyone. For some of you this is it. There is no other progression, except the one that leads toward a life sustained purely by writing. I’m not going to patronize you with platitudes about intrinsic value because we all come from different circumstances, and we all have to eat and have a place to live. My philosophy is shaped in such a way that asking you to live it would be like putting a square peg in a round hole.
The Golden Age
Yet, I do want to share one final thought on your own journey, if you are indeed a writer aspiring only to write, and it comes to me while reading Arthur C. Clarke’s novel, Childhood’s End. I have not finished the book (please don’t spoil it), but I’m reading the portion of the narrative where man enters The Golden Age, a nearly perfect utopia. Clarke shares his thoughts on the outcome of such a fictional period in time, and tucked away in a single paragraph regarding creativity, he says:
The end of strife and conflict of all kinds had also meant the virtual end of creative art. There were myriads of performers, amateur and professional, yet there had been no really outstanding new works of literature, music, painting, or sculpture for a generation. The world was still living on the glories of a past that could never return.
I would love to believe that Clarke was being naive and that he didn’t truly understand the invisible force of creative drive. When I put aside the initial sting, I’m left with the uncomfortable truth; that drive is fueled by an opposing force, not one of pointless struggle, but one that compels us to act only when the two forces co-exist. Part of why we write, is simply because we can’t as a means to survive. Even if we could, there would need to be the continuous threat of uncertainty to keep us going.
To what end indeed.
Happy Reading,
Brian Reindel
Does it help to know that very few bigger name authors are happy with their careers? With the winning of plaudits and sales comes the desire for more plaudits and sales. There is not much peace in this job.
Brian, I genuinely appreciate reading about your literary adventures. Being able to hold a physical book you wrote, reading at your local school, setting up at a book fair - all these things / events I admire and wonder if/when/how I can do my own. Thanks for sharing!