My brother died two weeks ago, not from Covid 19, but possibly from not seeking medical attention because he feared contracting Covid 19. He was only 63, and I wish he’d had more time.
My father was one of those dynamic people who just keeps hitting the high note, again and again. He was popular; he was a partier; he was handsome and talented; there was nothing he tried that he couldn’t do; nothing that was broken that he couldn’t fix. Why I remember the time my refrigerator door fell off…
But I digress.
Some of us move like rockets through life. Others of us are not so lucky. My brother was one of those. A very talented guitarist, and a very sweet person, very comedic, but I think he just never quite found the niche to fit in to.
I tell you this personal and sad story because, for me, it underscores why I really care about publishing older writers, the late bloomers who didn’t discover they could write or should write until they were older, or who knew they could write, but put their shoulders to the wheel for other more pressing responsibilities first.
When you finally reach the place where you feel like you can give yourself time to write, or the confidence to share that writing you’ve always been doing, there should be someone else there, waiting, with a hand out to invite you aboard the fun bus. I really want to be that person. I wish I could have extended my hand more for my brother; I wish I was holding open the door to the bus that would have been full of his tribe, but he wasn’t a writer, and I’m not a musician. So, if I can do it for others, for you, well, it comes from the heart, in the name of Bill.
So, stay tuned. The lights are back on at DPP. The machines are humming. The Oompa Loompa are singing (And by Oompa Loompa I mean me; I’m very short, and very green… something I ate). Over the remaining months of this turd called 2020 we’ll be gassing up the main bus, and a few extra busses, and we’d love to get you on board.
If publishing is your goal, start your own engine. Blog (this WordPress thing is so easy even a dolt like me can do it), and build some interest in who you are and the worlds you create in your stories. Find out what local publications will carry your press release. What local bookstores might give you a night to read, or carry a book you wrote? Contrary to what a few writers seem to think, there is no magic bag of readers that publishers have, no cadre of capitalists we can force to buy books. So make yourself an appetizing thought, literarily speaking, and polish your stories ’till every T is crossed. So many times when I am interested in a story I will tell the author that we at DPP will do an edit, for free, not that the author is forced to accept our suggestions, but we will do one, and authors will say, “I already edited it.” And I see spelling errors on the first page. Believe me, there is no author out there who needs an editor more than me. My work is rife, RIFE with things I have missed in multiple edits. It’s no crime. It’s our very kind biology that makes our brain fix up our little mistakes for us, so we never see them. So, polish. When you think it’s perfect, get another writer you know and trust to give it a read. And when the publishing opportunity comes, you’ll be ready for it.
Got a blog? Have a FB author page? Post it on the DPP Facebook wall. In the name of my brother Bill, we support you!
And stick around. Follow this blog. We’re just about to open up the factory to the public once again, and we’ve got a lot in store.
May you all be well, and loved, and safe, even if you’re bored and, like me, you wonder why you ever needed shoes in the first place. I’ll tell you why we need them! To kick 2020 in the ass.
Oh, now I went and got vulgar. Well, possibly more vulgar; I should tell the truth.
Late bloomers, we love you, we salute you, and we want to know you. Stick around.