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Fame. Fortune.

Hmm. Somewhat unlikely. Then again, if you’re not doing this sort of thing because you love it, or simply can’t stop yourself, you’re a sap.

I’ve had some luck in the publishing racket, having sold a couple books over the years. The money trickled in, more of a quiet stream than a torrent. The advance from the publisher, some foreign rights, a couple film options. Enough to pay for a year’s worth of education at a third-rate private college of the era. I can say for certain that nobody ever stopped me on the street to say, “Aren’t you….”

Then again I was unencumbered by demands from my publishers to write the follow-up for which the world was not exactly clamoring. Talk about a sense of artistic freedom.

I’m gearing up again to pursue the traditional publishing route. Flogging the guides to literary agents, sending off queries, not really holding my breath while awaiting a response. One virtue of this moment in time is that nobody wants a paper version of anything anymore. You package up a summary of that precious novel, add a few sample pages, include a brief bio and hit Send. Bang. You’re in business. Almost no one responds, but that’s a different matter. At least you’re not buying stamps.

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