Do It: The Math

You know the saying - it's usually employed in math-less situations like "Tommy found Lisa in bed with his brother - you do the math." When it comes to being an author, I don't know if there's any actual math, but there's enough going on that I feel like I'm in the center of a big Ponzi scheme and I want someone to talk me down...or actually up...to the top of the pyramid.

Authors are a supportive group. They trade information on message boards. They mentor complete strangers on query technique. They give away critiques for good causes. They offer cover blurbs to up-and-coming authors.

I've heard it, read it, know it - the higher the quality of books that get published, the better it is for the publishing industry and therefore for all writers, everywhere. That's why we help each other hone craft. That's why we chant the mantra: don't quit, never quit, never give up. Keep reaching for that publishing star.

But in publishing, there are only so many slots to go around. Once an author establishes at a house they're going to take up future slots to make a career. I don't want to sit around waiting for authors to die so a slot can open up, but I'm doing the math and coming up negative.

Once you're in the position to work a little publicity, you start your blog. The number #1 advice to get viewers? Go comment on other blogs. Then maybe someone will comment on you. So you've got someone running around on blogs hoping people comment back and so and and so forth and...the math's not looking too good here, either.

Someone has to lose. Someone has to never publish. Someone has to do more commenting then they're commented on. Someone is probably me. Odds are, right? That's how the math works.

This is not a blatantly or even carefully veiled request for encouraging words. I don't need them. I promise. It's okay.

My friend held an intervention with me the other day. "When are you going to quit?" she asked. She meant writing. "One year?" she asked. "Two?"

May as well have slapped me across the face. But she meant well because I was giving up free time, time with friends, time at my job, time with her, too. I was losing sleep. Sacrificing my health.

But my answer: "When I die. When I give up my job, the house, you, my husband, my other friends - all of you - you all came into my life after my dream of writing writing. You always will."

That's some pretty hefty math. Life, love, happiness all for a sliver of a fraction of a chance at a dream.

I've done the math. Have you?