In a world where it’s a struggle to get your work published, to find an audience, and to think you might give someone something worthwhile to read, it’s occasionally disconcerting to see what makes it onto the market and to think that anyone would want to read it.
Case in point: I was at the library a few months ago; there to check out some book that I would up not reading anyway, when on the stand I saw a novel with a title that made my jaw drop. Not in the “I wish I had come up with that title” feeling that I usually get when I see something brilliant, but more in the “are you serious?” moment–of course, my true reaction had a few more expletives than what I wish to note here. The title of the book?
“Werewolf Cop.” Yep. Read that again. “Werewolf Cop.”
I thought to myself: okay, blatantly commercial and congrats as there’s the “Twilight” and “Underworld” crowds that will love such tripe. A copy who investigates crime and has the powers of a werewolf. Goodness gracious. How did they think of that?
They didn’t. Thinking has nothing to do with it.
I became a bit distraught. Why should I bother to ever write anything good and original if someone can get published with something so derivative. I mean it could be Zombie Cop, Witch Cop, Vampire Cop…Wizard Cop…I mean, how can you write such merde.?
And that’s what people want to read? I seriously considered throwing in the towel and saying goodbye to writing forever.
But then I had an epiphany. I have to keep writing–if for no other reason than to rescue the world from the likes of “Werewolf Cop” and at least come out with stories that will be interesting and well-written and not done for the sake of milking the latest fiction trend for money.
Although in a way, that would be nice. Money, that is.
Sigh. It’s hard to be a writer.