in the dark ages–which is to say thirty years ago–my ambition was to write the great american novel. i retired to the tool desk in the garage of the foster family in which i lived. i laid in supplies — cigarettes, paper, and a particularly vile cocktail of tab with a shot of vodka. i used an unforgiving i.b.m. selectric: every mistake required a careful application of white out and if there were enough frustrations on a page. . .
ten years later, on the edge of my thirties, i sold my first novel. publishing a short story, a poem or a novel required printing out the entire piece, mailing it with a return self addressed envelop to a publisher, and waiting. waiting, waiting and waiting some more. and then getting a rejection letter that would ruin my day or a week or a month.
internet self-publishing means there is no publisher membrane between the writer and reader. there can be true collaboration between writer and reader, as there has been in the book “wool” written in serial form by hugh howley and his readers. that is the sort of collaboration and accessibility that i’d like.
so i hope you’ll download this story. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CE04WGW and that you’ll like it, review it, give me “room for improvement” comments. and i hope to publish more stories this way. and then i hope you will like those. i don’t expect to be an internet sensation but i hope for a good reader-writer relationship. maybe even have lunch with a reader. or write the great american novel even if it’s just a small little treasure for me and a reader.
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