I'm late to the table in reading Robert Smartwood's fiction and his blog, but I think both are quite good. In this post, Smartwood outlines his thoughts on the tit-for-tat that goes on in the world of publishing and e-book promotion.
I've seen a bit of this, and I'm not a fan. Honestly, if I write nice things about your fiction, it's because I like the writing. I am not fishing for an "attaboy" and I don't want face time on your blog. I don't spend much time on message boards, and I loathe the idea of going onto facebook and myspace and twitter. My time is finite, and I already get sucked into participating in too much online crap already.
I've carved out this tiny corner of cyberspace to write about current events, speculative storytelling, family observations and teaching. I catalog stories that I use in class. I actually thought about nuking the blog about a month ago, but then I read some of my old posts about my family and I just can't let those go.
It's the only place online that I cultivate, and on a good day my stats show about fifty pageloads. I'm not setting the world on fire with An Autumn Harvest (in my best month, I sold about forty copies of that shortish novel), and I don't want to do the things that many say are necessary to put a spike in those figures.
I don't think I'm lazy--I just don't value much of that blog hopping as a useful expenditure of my time. I like to run and write and cook and work with my students and spend time with my family. Those aren't things that are done online (except for my Blackboard responsibilities, of course), thank goodness.
To sum this up, nobody owes me anything. I'm not in debt to anyone else. I appreciate those that drop by here from time to time (hi Mom!), for sure. But, as Smartwood concludes, writers write. The rest of it often gets in the way of that...
In unrelated news, I'm giddy for the Orioles game down in Kissimmee tomorrow! I'm taking Lyla for her first baseball glove later tonight. The only downer is ticketmaster (I refuse to do them the courtesy of capitalization). Those suckers charged $4.25 per ticket as a convenience charge to pick up tickets at will-call.
At will-call!
The only convenience is for their profitability. Boo, Astros, for partnering with such a nefarious company. Then they had the nerve to cahrge me an additional $4.10 for processing. I hate those suckers, and I don't use the operative term there lightly...
Welcome to the digital journal for writer Daniel Powell. Discussions of books, movies, popular culture, and the occasional ruminations on life and family...
3.11.2011
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