Date posted: February 12, 2007 - Monday
Title: Getting A Good Price for Your Soul
Current mood: disappointed
I 'borrowed' the title from another writer. I belong to a writers group and this title is from a column discussing how to financially and emotionally survive as a writer that used to run in a genre magazine. But, I think it's appropriate here.
I got something in the mail the other day that sparked the minor rant which is to follow. But you need a little background first.
First, know that I take writing very seriously. Since I was somewhere in high school or before I have been drawn to writing and books. I have spent many an hour with a pen or pencil in my hand, or poised over the keyboard of a typewriter or computer. And I have spent uncounted hours reading almost anything that came to hand.
I have developed my own philosophy, or feeling about writing and have harbored and sheltered fanciful dreams about the craft and my place in the world. I believe a good part of writing comes from the mind and the heart and the soul of its author.
Second, I have a fairly large collection of books. And I need to qualify that by saying why I have them. I want to read them. I want the knowledge or information within the covers.
Now there are people who collect books because they are signed by the author. And there are those who collect them because they are first editions. Both of these groups seem to me to be more interested in the eventual financial value of the books than the content of them.
I have no use for these people.
Third, I have little use for people who collect things merely for the eventual financial value they can receive from these things. I consider those 'collectors' to be merely people with an acceptable gambling habit. They are betting that whatever they collect will go up in value and they can cash in on it.
So what I got in the mail was an offer from a publisher. An offer to buy limited edition book; all first editions and signed by the author. The initial book was something like $20. After that the books would cost you $75 each plus shipping and handling.
I nearly laughed my ass off. I can think of very few books I would pay $75 for. And especially ones that might, or might not, have a good story between the covers. They were selling the idea of exclusivity and eventual financial worth rather than the value of the writing.
And the most disturbing part was where the brochure listed the names of some of the authors who had participated or would participate in this publishing venture. I knew some of these names. And I don't mean just recognize them, but knew them. I had met them. Talked to them. Gone to school with at least one of them.
I felt an overwhelming wave of sadness, of betrayal.
Now I know it is hard to make a living as a writer. There are very few people in this country who can make their total living from writing; years ago an instructor in a college class I was taking put the number at ten.
