…at the very least, yeez have to meet the Author’s Lottery God halfway… #TBSU…

…it’s a chestnut almost as old as me… Old Percy implores his God, week after week for about thirty years, to let him win the National Lottery… and complains every week when he never wins anything… ultimately, a booming voice from the heavens above pleads with him… ‘…c’mon, Percy, at least meet me half-way with this— buy a ticket…’ …I often think with some of the legions of quill-scrapers I rub up against on the Web, the same maxim could well apply… very few of us wouldn’t welcome the adulation, the fame, the moolah, the whole-ten-yards-that-comes-with-success trappings of being a multi-millions best-seller… then I note fellow-scribblers banging their first wee baby offering on to the marketplace… and five minutes later whining that nobody’s buying their masterpiece… that the Publishing Giants aren’t battering down the doors to their virtual candle-lit garrets with contracts worth trillions of bucks… that the phone connection to the Nobel Literature Prize Panel has been singularly silent… that Amazon Kindle downloads are less than a pair so far… that John Grisham, Lee Child and that wee Rowling lassie haven’t been in touch looking for writing tips… there may be differences in the manner in which self-publishing indies and traditional route authors get to market… but some things are precisely the same… yeez have to pay yer apprenticeship dues… yeez have to build a track record of at least half-way decent material… and in most cases, yeez have to produce a lot more than just one sole, single, solitary, lone, isolated piece of literature… yeez have to meet the Author’s Lottery God at least halfway… practice doesn’t always make perfect… but no practice certainly won’t achieve the consistent levels of excellence expected from a reading public which isn’t daft… serve yer time at the learning stool… get cranking on the prosaic production stream… and who knows, the next lucky winner might be yerself … see yeez later…


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