You are about to experience unbelievable narcissism. If you read this blog, you are about to let a would-be author talk to you about their “book” for as long as you let him. This is never a good idea. It’s the awkward death of dinner parties and coffee dates. Otherwise friendly and enthusiastic family and friends get glazed expressions when you start to talk about “your book”. Given a few more Thanksgivings and Christmases, “your book” starts to get treated like your cousin’s alcohol problem. We know it exists, but can we just not talk about it?
It’s even worse if they are writing fiction.
“Creative” writers believe in themselves to an inordinate degree. We think we have interesting ideas and that you should like them. And there are a lot of us. Walking through the genre fiction aisle at your average big box book store is like kicking two day old road kill in summer. Authors rise buzzing from the carcass of science fiction or fantasy or romance in sun blocking hordes. Turn the bloated thing over and you’ll see all the little wannabe’s they’ve left behind, pupescent and wriggling, fighting for their own little piece of the rot.
If Ben in fact knows he’s a really boring self-involved maggot in a stinky meat sweater, why is he doing this to us?
The shortest possible answer is, he needs to. Which is not to say you need to read his blog. As introverted as he tends to be in public, Ben is a social creature when it comes to creativity. He needs to talk things through, write things down, and run it up the flag pole. He needs sticky notes on the wall, and starving artists who’ll draw him character art on the semi-cheap. He also apparently talks about himself in third person. He might need to get that looked at.
The other reason is accountability. Richard Rohlin, the creative juggernaut behind Grapple Gun Publishing is often the recipient of my nascent creativity. While Richard squirrels away knowledge in Evernote next to his long form poetry and carefully plotted epics, I’m a Rube Goldberg story machine. I never realize I need a piranha until after the mash potatoes are sliding down the wall. Recognizing my lack of piranhas, Richard suggested I start a blog to serve as a way to trace my progress toward a goal and ensure that I do in fact continue making progress. He’s kind of a genius like that.
Therefore, gentle reader, thou hast been warned. Lo, we are about to get creative way up in this joint.