Thursday, February 1, 2018
I have recently begun disabusing myself of the notion that if everyone else is doing it with impunity I should hardly be the one to be singled out. And I am finding that the searching vines and tendrils of this idea have wriggled their way in to an array of surprising places. One of these is my pursuit of publishing.
My motivating justification for my being published has fundamentally been:
My writing is no worse that any of the thousands of people who are regularly published, so why not me?
That is to say, publish me, for I am just as good as all these other people you publish.
I reject that now. No longer will I live a life of comparison, external valuation, and a sense that I should be judged by some dark and low common standard. If I am going to be published, if you are going to publish me, then, for myself and for you, I must clearly assert full, absolute, and pure reasons for you to do so!
Unfortunately I can't think of any.
With kind regards,
Posted by Feldenstein Calypso at 6:30 AM
Labels: authors, complete and utter nonsense, humor, letters, publishing, tombs, writing
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