My brother forwarded me an inspirational e-mail about self-publishing, and while it's something I've considered and will probably eventually do, the writing well these days is a bit dry.
Oh, I've got ideas. And the chops to put them down. I still have dreams, and I also have the practical need to be creative, but what I don't have is faith.
Faith in an audience which has been trained to expect certain shoutouts and concessions that I'm not really interesting in giving. I don't want to fix anything. I don't want to declare my morality as superior. I want to wallow in the broken areas of life and do it with a dispassionate artfullness that leaves the reader to do the fixing and the moralizing.
My goal is catharsis, not social change. As it should be.
Let us not mention the inescapable fact that I'm a straight white male, and that chances are, my "hero" will also be a straight white male. This is a demographic and genealogical reality that, if it must be mentioned, should matter not at all.
But matter it does, perhaps even more than the work. Either I'm part of the dominant patriarchy that lords over everything --these straight white male heroes and their straight white male authors-- or I'm something to be actively avoided.
Once upon a time, Susan Hinton of Tulsa wanted to publish a book but they said, people don't read women. So the author of The Outsiders was listed as S. E. Hinton. The book has been in print since. Surprisingly, people do read women!
I've thought a lot about that lately, the ever-present narrow-mindedness of the masses, the coy attempt to fool them, and in the end, the triumph of the work itself. I'd like to think that can still happen. I'm just not sure.
Which is why I think when I publish, I will do so under a pseudonym, and my author biography will read "[Insert Chosen Pseudonym] is the pseudonym of a guy you really don't want to know."