“there’s no market for this shit…”
“when was it ever about the
i thought it was about the art.”
“look it’s just…well you don’t have a hook…
you know…an angle…somethin’ to chew on”
“yeah…maybe…i don’t know. i never wrote
nothin for the sake of anything so i don’t
know why it’s a big deal anyhow.”
“exactly man – now yer gettin’ it.
it ain’t a big deal…i mean if it were up to me…
i’m just the publisher…it’s the panels, the judges,
the patrons and the sometimes even the readers.
you gotta market yourself man…do some readings
and maybe learn to stomp…plus you ain’t getting younger.
if you were uglier or better looking maybe…
but you just kinda blend…your smoke in a dark bar”
“fuck dude…just tell me to go some place else
or make some shit up about missing the deadline…
don’t be so damned harsh is all.”
“you want to know what i think or you want lies?”
“i don’t know anymore…maybe lies…i’ll write truth.”