Every once in a while, I feel the urge to write another book. Never mind that my previous three got more positive reviews than sales: instead of wasting my time with science fiction and essays therein, I was going to focus solely on horticulture. When this happens, I usually ask the Czarina for help, and four or five good stout cracks to the skull with a cricket bat relieves the pressure on my brain that causes these delusions.
It’s not that I don’t have a good viable subject. It’s also not as if I wouldn’t have an editor and publisher whom I trust like the big brother I never had: Warren Lapine has already offered to publish anything on the subject I care to offer him. It’s just, well, that the way the publishing business is going right now, there’s a little metaphor about micturating down a rodent burrow that keeps coming to mind.
Case in point, here’s the only link from Amazon.com you’ll ever see on this blog, on a subject that definitely deserves better coverage and consideration. I’m not even going to include the title or author’s name, because the last thing the author needs is the ego boost from seeing the listing in Google. (Just read the reviews and the excerpt.) Instead, I’m just going to sit back and collect notes, and wait until the situation with big-box bookstores, publishers, and distributors shakes itself out a bit. After all, if this is the competition, I want to wait until the stink dissipates a bit.