Nick’s got a post up about.. basically, how to actually make money writing fiction.

And yea, it means stepping out of the ghetto.

I remember getting a ton of very nice rejections from various SF/F mag editors for my story “Two Girls.” The most frustrating rejection came from an editor who suggested I send it to a feminist magazine. I raged for at least ten minutes. I already fucking write in the ghetto! I don’t want to further ghettoize myself!

But you know what? Bitch Magazine’s got a higher circulation count than any of the “big three” genre mags.

Personally, I want to be a regular writer for Oprah Magazine.

Because I’m like that. Then maybe I can move on up to National Geographic….

As much as I’d like some in-genre recognition because I’d really like some decent novel advances and sales, the more shit that goes on in my life, the more I realize that what I should really be doing is trying to make some fucking money.

I’ve got credit card and hospital bills up to my ears, and medication alone for the diabetes shit is going to cost me an extra $2500-3000 a year. That doesn’t include the every-three-months visit to the endocrinologist and the yearly visits to the optician and the podiatrist.

Other people get paid to write stuff that’s far less interesting than some of the blog posts I shoot off in the course of an afternoon.

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