This is also why we’re not on the lookout for new members – the chemistry of a collective is its most important point. For us, compiling our latest anthology, 13 Shadows Waiting for Sunrise, has been a revelation. We’ve grown as individual writers through collectively looking at one or two things. But you’re right – a collective’s biggest threat is stasis, self-satisfaction. So new blood is always good, and it’s inevitable that people will move on – some will (shudder) get an agent and decide to go the mainstream route. Others will move jobs, change life circumstances, or decide to write about orchid growing. What matters is keeping the group’s inner life vibrant, which means staying true to the collective’s ideals – in our case, delivering quality fiction direct to readers. For that, a balancing act of continuity and change is essential.

Ebooks have received strange print press over the past two weeks. First, this article in the WSJ that takes a gee-whiz approach to matters that are constantly and exhaustively discussed online, usually absent from the writing of someone that embraces brevity (like Walter Mossberg, ostensibly the WSJ’s tech columnist), and then this past week a bizarre article in the New York Times‘ Fashion & Style section. An excerpt from the latter: “And as books migrate from paper, it means the death of the pickup line, ‘Oh, I see you’re reading the latest (insert highbrow title here).’”

When I read the above quote, I quickly checked the page header to make sure I was still reading the Times and hadn’t been bumped to some other site. I completely understand that, to many, ereaders fall on aesthetic, and not utilitarian (at least not until they actually fork over the money for one), concerns, but the rest of the Times‘ article is about as informative about either as that quote. Joe Wikert over at Kindleville had a good time carving a jack-o-lantern out of the expressed sentiments.

“There’s a fallacy that some of my friends sometimes fall into, the ol’ ‘The audience is stupid. The audience only wants to go this deep. Poor us, we’re marginalized because of TV, the great hypnotic blah, blah.’ You can sit around and have these pity parties for yourself. Of course this is bullshit. If an art form is marginalized it’s because it’s not speaking to people. One possible reason is that the people it’s speaking to have become too stupid to appreciate it. That seems a little easy to me.”

I received a rejection letter two weeks ago for some poems I’d been pretty self-satisfied about when I submitted them to a lit journal. I was a little surprised that the journal hadn’t wanted them, but what surprised me more was the brief stab of indignation. “Those fools! What do they know?” The brief imp-tap of that special arrogance of those who believe they’ve been slighted. Then I reread the poems, since cigarettes weren’t handy, and it took me only about a minute to be embarrassed of my reaction. Of course they didn’t want them. Their prosody was all over the place, only one or two of them were actually somewhat strong, and anyway none of them were anything like what the pub had desired for their late-winter issue. Amazing what a change of perspective a couple months brings to your own work.

It seems old-hat to cite On Writing by Stephen King, since everyone does, but he did something interesting with his rejection letters, when they began pouring in: he posted them on the wall of his workspace to remind himself of the importance of always improving, and to keep himself humble in the event of any success.

Anyway, good luck with your query revision, and the next step, whatever it entails. I originally started reading your articles in January because I was checking out web mentions of Creative Byline, where I work. If you’re doing more research on publishers, or have questions about us specifically, I’m glad to help out in any way I can.

Best,
Peter

thanks for understanding.

oot