Okay. Here's the thing. I am reading blogs written by other wonderful writers. And my favorites are all listed to the left here and I really mean it when I say these are all great blogs and you should take the time to get to know them and read them.
However. I am depressed. I find myself gripped by lassitude and indifference. I shrug my shoulders and go "humph" when I read the wonderful reviews at one blogger and then another blogging about Harlquins. I am finding that I couldn't care less and its not so much a romance slump as a feeling of futility.
I used to think there were very few wonderful books in the world and that the cream would always rise to the top. Since I was on that book award committee last year, I have come to the opposite conclusion. There are too many wonderful books being published every day and too many wonderful writers writing out there that will never be fully acknowleged or understood in their lifetime or perhaps ever. Too many great books are published, live out a shelf life of a couple of weeks, and then sink into the dross, never to be heard from again.
Authors complain the business sucks, that they have a hard time getting published. And I hear you. I'm there and I too have gnashed my teeth about lack of response time, snarky comments, rejection letters, etc., My life would be alot easier if I didn't have this mad desperate desire to write. What the hell is wrong with me anyway? I toil away for hours on end, with the understanding that recognition if it ever comes, will be at most fleeting. And forget about making millions. I have a better chance of winning the lottery. If I could kill my muse, rip her to shreds, and stomp her onto the floor until she is absolutly dead and unresponsive, I'd do it. Being a writer sucks.
Well maybe not so much the previous thoughts. If I could kill other writers' muses I would, and leave the field clear for me. I wish publishers would publish less. I almost wish it was harder to get published. Why? Because if publishers published less, maybe fewer people would be writers and go be high school English teachers or something. Nothing wrong with being a teacher. Good pension plan and health benefits which is more than I can say being a writer. As it stands now, its not that there are too few books being published, its that there are so goddamn many, it is virtually impossible for a really really good writers to be discovered and make a living at it.
And who reads all this crap anyway? Between TV and the Internet and the Ipods and whatnot, people just don't read as much for pleasure anymore and you can't count all these wonderful bloggers -they are in a small select minority. So I read these reviews for all these wonderful books that I am not going to read. Mayber ever. And I am a serious reader, but here I am reading reviews and admiring all the hard work which went into the review with the sense its all for nought. Because I won't be reading all these wonderful books. I have a mountain of books beside my bed and I have vowed to not buy another book until I have made a dent in this stack.
So. What do I think should happen next? I wish publishers would think smaller, instead of bigger and stop constantly flooding a non-reading public with tons and tons of new titles all the time. Just stop it already. I would rather see publishers concentrate on quality works (in whatever genre) and promoting those writers that are good and maybe not as well known. Why does it have to be a hundred, a thousand, a million, great writers competing for your attention all the time? I can't see it does the serious reader any good -wading through all the dross and the non-serious reader is quickly overwhelemed and learns to ignore most books anyway. So what good is all this "stuff" anyway?