…when just *one* reader “gets” a story.
I’m not sure this makes me a very marketable writer.
I think we are far too in love with being mass-loved. I don’t write the sorts of stories that get me mass love. I write about machete-wielding matriarchs.
It does make me wonder, tho, what all of us are writing for? The day job writing pays the bills. The night job writing… more and more these days, I wonder what it’s for. It used to be a great way to funnel a lot of anger; a great way to wake people up. We get so complacent in our soft, cozy lives. I’ve spent the last year oh-so-cozy in mine after nearly two years of terror involving crazy people (one of them being me), chronic illness, job loss, homelessness, grunt work, and soaring medical costs. I live knowing full well that Bad Things can and will happen. You roll the dice. I know what I’m in for. And it makes the soft, quiet, cozy time that much more precious.
I already know what’s in the closet. So it does make it hard to visit the horrorshow on purpose at the keyboard every night, when you know it’s really out there somewhere – waiting.
