K. Marvin Bruce

Every day in Trump’s America the line between fiction and fact becomes effaced.   Not that that’s any excuse for neglecting my fiction, in fact it seems as good a reason as any to press on with it.   I’ve got a non-fiction book under contract and that keeps me away from my mistress Muse in the “fake news” world. It’s too bad, really.   I’ve got a seventh novel well under way and I’ve got a potential publisher considering one (at last) for publication.   The thing is, for a man being published is about the closest you can come to giving birth.   Months of gestation, after having seeds planted inside, and perhaps then you have something to say.   Something that will grow up beautiful. As someone who has written literally millions of words, I’m always amazed at how difficult it is to find others who want to read them.   The internet’s a crowded place.   My daily commute to and from work forces me offline for a few hours a day, and it i...

Institutions.  They can take many forms and missions, but they all have something in common: they're collectives.  They speak with the voice of many, while most of us speak with the voice of one.  This matters if you're a writer.   The world is full of noise.  I'm older than the internet, and I remember when getting published meant writing a letter, by typewriter, to a publisher, asking about your book.  I got turned down in those days too, but it was a lot less competition.  Now, unless you have an institution to vouch for you, you can't shout with enough decibels to get any notice.   Publishers are institutions.  If you manage to get published, your voice automatically becomes louder.  Even a small publishing house reaches more than most individuals.   If you teach at a college, you have an institution to speak for you.  Putting the name of a school after yours can open doors for you.  Credibility comes with the prestige...