Today I received this link in my inbox, have a look first:
Tell me which is your favourite sentence. Mine is this one: “At dinner parties you turn away from self-published writers.” You want to know the truth?
I TURNED AWAY FROM THEM!
As for why. Look at me. Do I look fifty-ish? Man (and ugly is a plus point)? Speaks no language other than the one he is supposed to speak and writes about Chinese countryside life that is sublimated by publishers for wrong and selfish reasons ?
Right. I’m only a woman, and as far as you know, I’m reasonably attractive, and clever and intelligent and speak four languages fluently plus things I don’t even bother to mention for the peacesake of your mind. What’s more inconvenient: I can think. I don’t need no one to tell me what to write. And yes, I LOVE underestimation, too.
For your info — and for me never to forget — I left my Dutch publisher and said twice good-bye to two agents I worked with. I left my past for what it is and made my own choice. It’s a CHOICE. Don’t make me say it again as I may think I’m talking to a sheep. Oh, another sentence I loved from the linked article: “…they do not need to earn grand sums of cash in order to maintain a living at this (and damage the reputation of those publishers).” Life is so much sweeter with a cause.
One thing from the article which deserves my attention, however. “Ebooks are being driven by downmarket genre fiction.” That’s why my other post today and the whole point and necessity of my establishing The Lobachevsky Prize. (You do that again, underestimate the power of my eyebrows.)
I close my case with Oscar wilde’s words: “Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.” And I hate typos.