Naivete

I just got back from a seminar on the publishing industry that was required for my creative writing class. The panel was composed of three people: an editor at a major publishing house, an ex-literary agent that now works as a publishing consultant, and my professor (a published writer, naturally). The mantra of the night was "I don't want you to get depressed but..." as they revealed to us all the insider info about "dark side" of getting a book in print.

Perhaps I'm overly cynical and my cynicism makes me see things a certain way. I'm only familiar with the publishing industry as an avid reader and a creative writing minor who has been published by a small university press (in a foreign country, no less) and got "paid" in copies of the book. Which is to say, not very familar at all. But I know all too well that no, it's not really about the art. That yes, you need an agent if you want your book to go anywhere. And, of course, the big one: that writers don't make a lot of money.

I feel bad for those who, unlike me, did walk out of the seminar depressed. Because if their lifelong dream is to publish and they're just now learning the hard truth, they haven't done their homework. And if they haven't done it and thus don't seem to be the type that delves deeply into things, I wonder if they have what it takes to bear the blows that the publishing industry surely will dole out.

I'm not saying that they will give up for sure. I'm just saddened at seeing so many bright-eyed and bushy-tailed people my age walk into the room tonight only to leave three hours later looking like all their hopes for the future have been destroyed.

Feisty Boy asked when my first book is coming out. It'll have to wait until after the dissertation, that's for damn sure.