K. Marvin Bruce

In my unguarded (i.e., optimistic) moments, I sometimes wonder if underselling oneself is a self-fulfilling prophecy.  For example, sending your writing only to small publishers might lead to small returns.  The big guys are scary, however. Sometimes it seems a small press can’t handle big ideas.  Some fiction goes beyond the usual need to tell a story and contains a much deeper message.  After all, all books are farewell letters to the world.  We want to say something important. Although I keep a spreadsheet with my submissions, sometimes stories get lost in the mix.  Once in a while I’ll stumble upon one that I’d forgotten, an orphan of my feverish imagination.  I wonder why I never tried to get it published.  Then I look at my spreadsheet. It is kind of like an idea graveyard.  Big ideas, small ideas.  Lying side by side in unmarked graves since, never having been published, they’ll never be read by anyone other than thei...

I used to belong to a local writer’s group.  Frustrated at my inability to figure out how to get published (I had written three novels and couldn’t get the attention of any publishers in this crowded market) I dutifully spent a Saturday a month with a group of strangers, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. One of the benefits of this group was their ability to pool the membership fees and bring in experts.  We had people from the publishing industry come and tell us about the realities of trying to get noticed in an over-crowded room.  And esoteric knowledge sometimes came our way. It was here that I learned from industry professionals that some best-selling authors no longer write their own books.  I was floored.  I write because I have to write.  It isn’t something I learned and it’s not in any sense optional.  The ideas come, unbidden, as I walk down the street.  The turns of phrase.  The slashing wit. Some Big Names...