Writers' World

I write books. I'm a wordsmith, a craftswoman. I like that aspect of writing. Did you think writers are inspired creatures whose heads are littered with fresh verbs, original adjectives, characters who you know better than your family? Writers today are marketing slaves, competing with literally millions of motivated, hopeful beings like themselves. We have to go forth and be known.
This is not why I write. (Actually I don't know why I write and I don't really care.) If a reader likes my work I feel gratified and happy. We all like praise.
But the imperative to sell one's own work is simply reality today. There are no gentlemen/lady publishers left...those dear, respectful people who once took a protege out to lunch, where literary bon mots were exchanged over a free(for the author) meal. These people existed. They were 84 Charing Cross Rd book loving beings who cared for their writers, nurtured them like little ducklings while trying to help build a backlist.
Wistful memories tend to reveal that one is ageing and the world ain't what it used to be. Moving on, books fly from the hands of self-publishers, online publishers, even a few big name publishers. So keen are we to sell that we are grateful to shift our book, for $5, for $3, maybe even for free. Next we will be paying our readers to take a copy off our hands.
So here I am, blogging away. A friend thought that successful bloggers need to be rather opinionated so I will have to work on that. A lot of my opinions have mellowed into sludge. Do you have an answer for everything? My certainties diminish by the day. I didn't think I needed a blog, but wise friends tell me it is essential. Why? Perhaps I'll figure this out as I go along. Now I've got started, maybe I can go write a few pages of my new novel. Bye, world!