Friday, 24 October 2014

The Blind Leading the Blind: Some Insight on Borrowed Time


Furthermore to Wednesday night's post, below is some information relating to the forthcoming release on my first E-Book, Borrowed Time. I’m not one to delve into torrents of self-indulgence so I’ll keep this as brief as possible.

Background:

The idea of this book took shape back in March of 2011 while I was reading Joseph Heller’s Closing Time. Despite the work's title bearing a resemblance, it is in no way, shape, or form connected and this aspect is merely coincidence; not even a tip of the hat to the great man.

Words were penned shortly thereafter in which the first draft was done in 12 weeks. After that, continuous work on edits, re-writes and all the rest of it took place; fun times. I took a breather for most of 2012 shortly before reconvening.


Some of the places throughout this work – pubs’ namesakes for instance – naturally exist. As their names suggest, some of you - namely my Antipodean associates - will relate.

The characters, not so, despite those who claim to see themselves throughout the work of fiction (we've all been guilty of it, haven't we?). Paraphrasing what the great author, Christopher Moore, once said. ‘If you think it’s bullshit, chances are it probably is.’

The typical 'pub' in this country is now few and far between. The vast majority of Australian inhabitants of legal drinking age have set foot inside a 'Tattersall's', 'Australian' or 'Oxford' Hotel. These establishments once solidified the social fabric of this country. Now, most have been acquired and watered down by big chain enterprises, crushing the moral fibre by compartmentalising these establishments into yuppified drinking grottos, despite most still bearing the same name. 'Atmosphere', indeed.

Pitch:

To sort the wheat out from the chaff, here’s a pitch, or a deterrent - depending on which side of the fence you occupy.

- Most will throw this in the ‘anti-literature' basket. Cool! I don’t hold any desire to associate with those in the literary world. Hearing stories has always fascinated me. Over the last couple of years I’ve found that telling them is also quite alluring. Maybe that’s a euphemism for being a bullshit artist?

- If you like reading about the antics of degenerates, loose cannons and those of the ilk where 'salt of the earth' springs to mind, then this may be your cup of tea.

- If you don’t like satire about the ‘rough and tumble’ of our society, then this probably won’t be your saucer of rat poison. The terms “raw” and “gritty” may apply to those enthusiasts so hell-bent to pigeonhole.

I’d hope that this will be ensconced somewhere in the sphere of escapism. It’s certainly not a read for the wintry months. This is more of a summer time holiday read. From the Gold Coast to Benidorm, or one would hope. Work commuters in the luxurious realms of public transport might even find this as a breezy pastime. Particularly those who don’t like Metro, MX, or the like.

Think of this as stodge. We all need some horrible food from time to time to balance our dietary requirements. Don’t get me wrong, there’s good stodge and bad stodge (pizza; good stodge. kebabs; bad stodge). Just like a record collection needs something easier on the ear and less thought provoking. Hopefully this can be the good stodge one requires every so often to fill that void. Pretentious, this is not.

A Note on Self-Publishing:


There are many commentators who have delivered the pros and cons. Possibly none better than
J.A. Konrath, whose built any army of self-publishers and continues to provide compelling counter-arguments to the naysayers.

All I will say is this. Musicians make music independently. Filmmakers make films independently. Why is it that those in their ivory towers render their superiority complexes by looking down with their collective high brow at aspiring storytellers who choose to release their work independently?

Let the reader decide if it’s garbage. Is it any different to a music enthusiast deciding if a piece of music isn't up to snuff? Is it any different to a film devotee deciding if a film doesn't cut the mustard? No, it’s not, so what’s the problem? Why should anybody’s creativity be subject to a rubber stamp by a collective of ‘professionals’ in an ivory tower who essentially play the game to line their own pockets?

I'd say shit doesn't sell, but, in fact, it can and does. However, I'm not the type of guy who falls in the brown stuff only to come out smelling of roses. If this fails I'll fall on my sword accordingly.

Simon.