Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Some people are plants.

When I found a place in the world I was happy. I stopped searching and took root. I planted myself.

Here I stand.

Others cannot resist the allure of distant pastures.

Harvey Keitel's character in "Up in Smoke" said that if you stay in one place long enough, the whole world passes by.

In a recent article, someone wrote that the future of media channels is one were everyone is the center of their own channel.

A recent news article reported that the "top 5 per cent of writers earned close to half of all the income received by professional authors."

A commenter noted that the barrier to entry for calling yourself a writer has fallen considerably since the pencil was invented.

The slush pile grows, the market is oversaturated, publications resort to dirty tricks to game the system.

None of this bothers me in the slightest.

Rabbi Tarphon was right, we are not free to see the work complete, nor are we free to desist from it.

Nevertheless, it is something we want done.

We have a mission.

I don't post here much because I was denied publication because I had posted my story here.

I'm still writing. I am, if anything, relentless, patient, unstoppable.

It's not me that presses on. I am pressed on. Keep writing and you'll know what I mean someday if you don't already.

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