The publishers encourage me to promote it, when really I just feel embarrassed by the whole thing and want to crawl under a blanket and stay there.
J.D Salinger died a recluse and I see a glimpse of my own fate: a hermit somewhere in the mountains...alone and insane, surrounded by snakes. or tigers. (Not that I'm being pompous enough to compare my writing to Salinger's, just alluding to the hermitty thing.)
But anyway, here is a damn photo of it along with the ISBN and a press review about it in a Bangladesh newspaper. It was on Dhaka FM as well though I've no clue how to get the recording. It's soon to be critiqued by some important "Literati" haaaaa, I can only imagine what they'll say. well. If you want to buy it, go buy it, just please don't tell me you did.
Artists have to be entrepreneurs these modern days. And I'm at the heart really an old-fashioned romantic kind of artist who wants to prance around in ignorant glee. You go for your dreams and you are forced to sell out. You keep it hidden and you're a loser coward. Win = Fail. There is a fine line between self-marketing and whoring, though sadly like in most other aspects of my life, I am terrible with colouring inside the lines. It'd be fun to lie and say I feel perfectly OK with saying "yo homie go buy my book fo' shizzle!" but to be honest it makes me nauseous. It's my soul. and it has to sell, in as many copies as possible, at 5 USD a pop in order to be deemed a success enough for the next one. In order to be deemed a success, period.
Hmm. You're a "success" if the world wants to F*** you and classify the murky depths of your subconscious as "art". What a Wonderful World. Fairies and ice cream y'all!
a toast to what I wrote 7 years ago and is now Finally in paperback. Grassy ass to everyone who suffered thru the journey-Muchas, Muchos, Gracias
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1 comment:
your pane... i endure as i read this. crazy feelings are crazy to read haha i'm going to go back to bed and put a blanket over my head lil
love you girl
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