Both The Duke of Morrison Street and Malady Manor seem to have made it to Amazon. Both book have the "look inside" feature active. The Kindle version of The Duke of Morrison Street is connected to the paperback version, but the connection between the two version of Malady Manor is not yet functional.
My angst associated with hitting the publish button, self-publishing, the egoism of making my work available to others has subsided. It seems I do a lot of things. Writing and publishing these books is one of them. The people I know who have read the book generally liked them and that is flattering. No one is confusing me with the next Hemingway, and that is comforting. By keeping expectations low, I end up flattered and comforted.
For a while I was interested in my own response to this project. I have moved. I now like seeing other people's responses. I am learned that many members of my social group are either non-readers or Puritan readers.
The non-readers read --as a survival technique and as a tool to making a living--but don't do it for pleasure. These people give me a blank stare when they see one of my books. They congratulate me and seemed genuinely pleased that I have written a book, but I can tell they are never going to read it. It is not a rejection of my efforts or my writing skill. They simply do not read books. Seeing this reaction in several people has made me think back in our relationship and realize that we have never discussed a books. There is a reason for that.
I also hang around with some Puritan readers: people who don't read books unless the book will make him or her a better person. I have several of these in my social circle. They read with purpose. Some eschew fiction altogether. Others admit the utility of fiction in making you a better person, but limit their fiction choices to books written by Dostoevsky, Melville or Joyce Carol Oates. Detective novels with drunken protagonists need not apply.
Friday, January 22, 2010
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