Just read an informative (but stark!) post on Ian Irvine’s site about the world of publishing. Some people may find an article like this helpful. Some might be discouraged. There are all kinds of truths here. Some nice. Some not so nice.
Here’s the sad truth: most people who write a book will never get it published, half the writers who are published won’t see a second book in print, and most books published are never reprinted. What’s more, half the titles in any given bookshop won’t sell a single copy there, and most published writers won’t earn anything from their book apart from the advance.
I’m really psyched that “The Synchronist” found a home at the San Francisco based comedy magazine Hobo Pancakes.
Here’s an excerpt:
When a man hears his own voice from the mouth of legend, naturally he grows proud. His chest swells. He walks with long, slow steps across the plaza, gently slapping the day’s newspaper at his side. When he finally reaches his favorite café (much like this one), he sits and waits for the server to take his order. He speaks loudly so the whole café can hear him. “The Panna Cotta,” he says. “No, rather, the Torta di Riso.” He watches how the patrons look up from their papers, as if a strange wind has passed over them. They stare down the long halls of memory, unable to pinpoint the familiarity. But then, inevitably, someone will begin to say “are you?,” and then stop themselves, for the thought is ridiculous. It can’t be. But then they must inquire. “You know, you sound remarkably like that actor…the American…Kip…Kip?”
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