Yesterday, I received a subscription request from a magazine BEFORE I heard back from them on a story I submitted. No doubt they got my name and address from the story.
But the advertising department is quicker than the editorial department. They've had my story over five months. That's just sad.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Friday, August 18, 2006
Somebody Shoot Me in the Face
Another article predicting the death of the novel and the doom of male writers.
More and more, novels are being read by women. Not that I have a problem with that. I hope that my work appeals to everyone, not just men. But as publishers work ever harder to gear publishing to female readers, the more difficult it's going to be for male writers to get published. The prejudices, whether real or imagined, exist. Sooner or later everyone's going to get the bright idea that only women can write things women enjoy reading. When that happens, I'm out of a job.
It's always fun to hear that the profession for which you've trained your whole life is becoming ever more obsolete.
I wonder if I can catch a train to Ketchum, like my friend Jack.
More and more, novels are being read by women. Not that I have a problem with that. I hope that my work appeals to everyone, not just men. But as publishers work ever harder to gear publishing to female readers, the more difficult it's going to be for male writers to get published. The prejudices, whether real or imagined, exist. Sooner or later everyone's going to get the bright idea that only women can write things women enjoy reading. When that happens, I'm out of a job.
It's always fun to hear that the profession for which you've trained your whole life is becoming ever more obsolete.
I wonder if I can catch a train to Ketchum, like my friend Jack.
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