It Used To Be A Habit; Now It's An Obsession
Thankfully, I have a wife who understands the relationship between compulsion and creativity
I love to write. I was put on this earth to write. I am a novelist by trade. Sadly, it is a dying art form. 98% of all books fail to sell even 5,000 copies. The written tradition of story telling is being replaced by video, just as words replaced oral story telling. It’s a circle-of-life thing.
Stacy Eskelin
It’s a conundrum, one that sometimes drives me f*****g nuts. As a writer myself, I believe that this SHOULD be a golden age for those of us who traffic in words. Technology being what it is, reaching an audience has never been easier. Between myriad self-publishing opportunities and a gazillion social media sites, getting noticed, published, and enriched should be a breeze. Right?
Yeah, about that….
Think how far we’ve come since Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the chapel door at the University of Wittenberg on October 31, 1517. Luther didn’t even have Twitter or Facebook to fall back on- but at least some of the people read. Of course, it didn’t hurt that there were few entertainment options in the early 16th century. ESPN didn’t exist, nor did Instagram or Tik Tok…and so those who could read consumed everything they could get their hands on.
In this day and age, good writing gets taken for granted. Those who do read tend to have the attention span of a 12-year old. Even I, the proud owner of an Adult ADD diagnosis, am a voracious reader, but in an era when I’m finally getting my writing up to speed, attracting readers ain’t easy. “Talented, gifted, and obscure” might be inscribed on my tombstone when all is said and done.
In an age when you can have a face-to-face conversation over the Internet with someone riding their yak in Turkmenistan, you’d think that good writing would speak for itself. Sometimes it does, but more often than not, what attracts attention are flashy stories like the guy who stripped down to his birthday suit while going through security here at Portland’s airport. THAT circled the globe before I could cough up a few sentences about it the same day.
I self-published a book in early summer 2020, which turned out to be pretty good, at least judging by responses I got from readers. It may not have been a heartbreaking work of staggering brilliance, but I sold a couple of hundred copies, enough to (more or less) break even. Not bad for not doing any marketing outside of one book release party.
(Damnit, Jim!! I’m a writer, not a salesman!!)
If you’re wondering- and I know you are- American Evolution is still available on Amazon (Kindle and paperback). It’s not a bodice-ripper, but it’s got EVERYTHING:
Sean Spicer!!
Gaslighting!!
The anti-vaccine movement!!
Fake news!!
Blood libel!!
The American Taliban!!
Global Climate Change!!
The 2nd Amendment!!
Democratic Socialism!!
Jerry Falwell and the Moral Majority!!
Ronald Reagan!!
Dogs!!
Saving America!!
MAGA!!
Religion!!
Forgiveness!!
Norway!!
Kindness!
Happiness!!
My late father!!
Somehow, I managed to shoehorn all that unalloyed brilliance into 271 pages. And it all makes sense.
Now I’m working on my second book (working title: It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time), a collection of essays I’ve written over 20+ years. With any luck, it will be out in late spring or early summer 2022. Stay tuned for further updates. Trust me; y’all WILL be buying copies. I probably still won’t make any money, but that’s never been what it’s about for me.
That said, if the New York Times bestseller list calls, I’m putting all y’all on hold, OK?
Today I’m heading to the Inn at Otter Crest on the Oregon Coast, where I’ll be borrowing a friend’s time-share for a week. So for the next seven days- except for meals, guitar breaks, and walks on the beach- I’ll be writing for 14-18 hours a day. I do it once a year, and it’s (thankfully) the closest I’ll ever come to being a monk or taking a vow of silence.
Yes, like Stacey, I do love to write. It’s my purpose in life. Unfortunately, in a fine and ironic piece of karma, my raison d’ etre turns out to be one of the least remunerative pursuits on the face of the planet.
The accessibility of good writing has increased exponentially over the years. It’s now possible to find quality writing virtually anywhere and at any time. Unfortunately, the flip side of that coin is that Mankind’s collective attention span has also diminished exponentially.
If I write an essay that’s more than 750-1000 words (like this one, f’rinstance), I’d have to accept that the odds of anyone reading it from start to finish aren’t good.
Readers, on average, don’t want a deep background and/or in-depth analysis. They want short and to the point. Or they want a synopsis. They don’t have the time and/or patience to appreciate the craft of writing. Yes, I’m generalizing, but I don’t think I’m wrong, especially about younger readers. When everything comes at you at warp speed on a screen, writing that makes you stop and think isn’t always high on your list.
I’ll continue to despair the demise of readers’ attention spans (even as I mourn the degradation of my own), but it’s not going to change what I do or how I do it. I’ll continue to believe there will always be a place for good, insightful, long-form writing.
Call me a dinosaur. I’ve been called worse. You can’t hurt me; I’m a Spurs supporter.