Without getting in with a BIG publisher who can shove my books into shops and right up your noses, I will always be in the small goldfish bowl of other people trying to become an established name in literature. Sure, I can fool myself into thinking that one day, just one day...but really if you look at the market, there are 100s of thousands of people confessing to be writers, all trying to sell their books to...other writers...yes, other writers, because we can't connect to readers! They are in the shops, or waiting for the latest book from their favourite writer or believing reviews in big magazines. Little writers like me can't connect. The BIG publishers have the market sewn up with their money.
Here's the Iron Writer Weekend Quickie 142!!
WQ 142 – image of a boy reading a book in a ruined bookshop, machismo, facade
Tim couldn't believe it. The place was strewn with books, manuscripts, encyclopedias, all a fountain of knowledge and wisdom the likes of which he'd never seen before... and all in the back of Big Joe's. He sat down and browsed through a journal, shocked from what the air raid had revealed. The bombs had fallen through the night and once they heard the 'all clear', he'd come out of the bunker to this.
Big Joe was the local thug, big as a bull, thick as shit, with machismo seeping through his skin. He'd owned the meanest, most dangerous bar in the borough. Before the bombing. Now there was only rubble, the front of the building destroyed, showing an unknown personal library, richer in literary treasures than the one for the public down the street. Tim looked up when a large shadow loomed over him. It was Big Joe.
"Tell me, tell me it is not missing!" he said in an academic English accent, as he rushed in amongst the books and paper. What was this? Had Big Joe's rough, tough image all been a facade? "Mon Dieu! It is safe! My 1864 First Edition 'Voyage au centre de la Terre'!"
And if you wish to see more...here's the website!