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Hah, while I'd like to make cheddar off writing things, I'm much more interested simply in writing them. Besides, I've already studied it in the past; I'm aware of the systems, but thanks all the same. Publishing would be magical just to have a book, a legit, proper, actual book - not a .doc, not scribbles in an exercise pad, an honest to god book. Imagine that, sitting properly bound on the shelf, with all the rest.
I mean, books are so important, maybe even the most important thing. Things are obviously changing in the world of print media, with varying degrees of success and failure, but the content is what matters, not the vessel. They perpetually change lives, make people better, take the world and flip it upside down. Books just have that distilled power to do almost anything, and to almost anybody. Right now I can pick up my copy of Don Quixote, a book published more than four hundred years ago, and feel the exact same things Cervantes was - I can see his dissatisfaction with the world after his time as a soldier, his refusal to reintegrate into society and his entirely justified fears of progress in the modern world. It's not just that though, it's his ability after all he saw to still believe that the world could be such a romantic, magical place, home to the bravest knight in all the land.
All of that in just one single book, and I have whole shelves of them. I want to write something to be up there next to Cervantes. Really, writing is among the more level playing fields. Any loser can start a blog and pour words into it to their heart's content, and that's amazing. I don't want to be the next Neil Gaiman, obviously that isn't going to happen, but does that matter? We're in a world where ever John Doe walking down the main road has a personal computer in his pocket connected to the whole planet. The only limit to how many people can hear you is how loud you're screaming.
Even then, I don't even really think an audience is a mark of importance in what you're writing. I've recently failed to get my first novel published - near seventy thousand words about my time living in London - and honestly, I'm pretty okay with that. I wrote a whole book! That is something I feel pretty fantastic about. I don't care much if I never make a dollar off it; I know some good writing went into that.
Besides, this is true for so many people. Douglas Adams was a temporary security guard, Gaiman was an unhappy journalist, Poe was a depressed drunk who married his thirteen year old cousin, Hemingway ate pigeons in the park, Bemelmans was a terrible hotel porter who hated his job... I could go on. I've known a lot of people who've liked to dabble in a few thousand words here or there, but they all seem to stop and get bored after realising nobody's reading. I'll happily be pressing on, even when I'm eating pigeons.
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