Plumbing the transparent mysteries and swinging through the whorls of light and water and shadow, trout shadows appear and disappear revealing truths to the fly fisher's lie. One voice in the chorus that is singing in the eddies, coursing through the rock gardens of a thousand tumbled torrents ... of words over throwing these banks. These are only the occasional visitations of my home waters.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I come to this as a frustrated free lance. At a recent writer's workshop the discussion turned to who is the audience that we are writing for, the publisher as the gate keeper to a larger audience or kindred spirits looking to find a different audience or better yet a more flexible and fluid audience. On the trip back home it occurred to me that I had a number of nonfiction and fiction pieces that haven't been read by anyone but the editors that rejected them. Some of those pieces were fed to me by the editors themselves only to be rejected after many hours of work.
My idea is to offer some of my rejected and new work from time to time as a way of casting them out there on the river to see if they can catch a reader or two. So I take this plunge into the river of online publication without any idea where it might lead. To be swept up by the currents' push and delivered down stream somewhere has an appeal that waiting for what the mail brings will never have. If you see me float by, could you give me a hand and pull me into quiet water and let me know what you think?