Have You Tried Writing in a Whole New Genre and Actually Being Successful?
Helpful suggestions from your friend in bagged aggregates
[NOTE: I apologise for the use of AI imagery in this post. It was early days on Substack and I was learning the ropes. I appreciate the feedback from my artistic friends on here, and I am not using any AI-generated images going forward.]
Look, you’re obviously not doing all that well with this writing thing. I mean, I know you, but no one else I know has heard of you. You’re hardly a household name, are you?
Yes, I know you won a couple of prizes a few years back, but that was ages ago, and it’s not like I see your books around the place, in supermarkets or airports or whatever. Have you thought about writing thrillers? Or sex romps? Or modern-day romances? That One Day is doing okay, isn’t it? It’s even on the telly.
Have you thought about writing for the telly? I mean, I know nothing about it, but it can’t be that hard to get into. There’s loads of stuff on the telly, isn’t there, and there are so many channels, I bet they’re always looking for new stuff. And the cool thing is, you’d only have to write dialogue, it’s not even as hard as having to do all the description and stuff.
Or what about film scripts? You could turn one of your books into a film! I bet I’m the first person to even think of this! I mean, no one has time to read, but people love films, don’t they? Remember when you launched your last book and I said I wouldn’t buy a copy, I’d just wait for the film to come out? That was a few years ago, wasn’t it? And no one’s making a film of it, are they? Well, why don’t you write the film script? Then you can get someone to make it! Then maybe a few people will even buy the book! You can thank me later. Maybe give me a cut for having the idea!
Or, listen, what about becoming a builder? Hear me out! You’re good at DIY, aren’t you, I’ve seen what you did with your utility room. Why don’t you do that for other people? That’s what I told that fella Van Gogh the other day. (Did I mention I’m on the test programme for the new time travel pods?) You know the guy? Paints these weird-arse things with colours all wrong, except the flowers, he gets the flowers right, but then he messes up the sky. I said to him Vincent, mate, look at the sky, it’s blue, mate. Blue. Not green. You’ve been doing this painting thing for ages, and no one’s heard of you. Hundreds and hundreds of paintings and not sold a thing! Not a single exhibition! I said do what you’re good at, Vincent, but put your skills elsewhere, what about walls and ceilings? Lots of people like a bit of colour on their walls and ceilings, and they’ll pay you, too.
He started fiddling with his ear, and I think that was a sign of him hearing what I’d said, so then I thought about you and writing. I figured I’d jump myself to a few more time locations and go and see what advice I could give other people who aren’t doing too well trying to be writers.
That Dickinson woman, for example. You know she doesn’t even know how to use punctuation properly? No wonder she gets hardly any of her weird poems published. I said Emily, stop moping. Why don’t you try your hand at some song lyrics? Everyone likes a song, don’t they? That ‘Row Row Row Your Boat’ is a massive hit! I bet whoever wrote that is making a mint. You could write something like that, get yourself your own place. Sell the lyrics, or if you can’t find someone who wants to buy lyrics, sing them yourself. Sing your little 50-something-year-old heart out!
I figured I’d cheered her right up, so I set the clock for 1923 and visited that moody bugger Kafka for his 40th birthday. He looked like he wasn’t eating enough. I mean I don’t know how he expects to be financially successful if he’s going to write about miserable stuff and men turning into beetles. I don’t know why he didn’t just stick with that job as an insurance clerk; at least it was reliable. I said Franzie, mate, moving pictures, that’s what people want. Books are a thing of the past. Someone has to write those little boxes that tell the audience what the actors have just said. It could be you, mate!
When I dropped in on that Poe fella, he didn’t seem pleased to see me. At least he’s had success with ‘The Raven’, people talk about it all the time, don’t they, it was even in The Simpsons, but you know what he made from it? Nine dollars. I said Ed, my boy, you’re obviously not much of a business mind. There has to be something more profitable you could turn your talents to. Have you thought about birthday cards? Could be a nice outlet for your rhymes, if you lighten up a bit. I think he appreciated me trying to help, and I came straight from him to you.
Listen, I don’t know anything about publishing, but I know what people like. It’s the stuff everyone’s talking about. The stuff with the big posters up in railway stations. I’ve never seen your name in a railway station. Anyway, sorry to love you and leave you, got to go, I’m off to drop a few words in the ear of that loser H.P.Lovecraft.
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Post-it Notes
Since last week I have
Edited 7,500 words of my epic pirate novel
Taken a workday off to see both parts of The Cursed Child with Mr Stones for his birthday present, now that is what I call love
Said farewell to my 1st year creative writing undergrads
Laughed at the glorious depiction of Tom Cox’s dad in this toad-in-shoe post
Discovered the delightful life/bookshop tales of Jess Pan, starting with this one
Until next time…
Oh my gosh, Ros, where do I begin?
1. Fabric and textile art is my first love. Peeps keep coming to me with "Awesome! Can you hem my jeans?" Then they get traumatized by my twitching face. Innocent muggles.
2. back to Van Gogh's sky color - just recently my friend was questioning me why I'd painted a river pink. It's GOTTA BE BLUE! Heck no - have you ever seen a blue river? - that's what artists are for: have a look - it's never blue! It's steel gray, brown, green, golden, not blue. Ok, ok, the sky caaan be blue, but where I live, it's often pink, lavender and sand.
3. Thank you for a delightful article - I've had a great coffee break with it. Keep'em coming!
Van Gogh shot himself exactly 74 years before I was born. I have no idea why I felt I had to share that...