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Strategies of loss
Feb. 15th, 2007 11:50 amThanks for all the hugs'n'stuff. I like you guys.
And because I like you, I am not going to be interminable about this, I promise; but I do just need to go on about it for a little bit. Because you can mock if you like, but losing a publisher is actually not unlike losing a lover; it's a long-term relationship that you come to depend on, and then it's just gone, snap, and it leaves you reeling. In this case, it's out of the blue, completely unexpected (and on Valentine's Day, yet...!). So I've probably got all those stages of grief to go through. Sigh.
This isn't the first time I've been through this, but it is probably the worst. Partly for the lack of warning (it's a sales-based decision, and last I heard, they were reprinting the hardback before publication; I guess they must've had a great many returns. I can see why they wouldn't want to tell me, but I do kind of wish they had), and partly because I have no fallback this time.
I have Sondheim in my head, and even he's not helping. I am, I suppose, still here; but "In the Depression, was I depressed?" - Well, yes, actually. Who was it who said that to be truly happy in life, it wasn't enough to succeed; one must also see one's friends fail? I've always seen myself in that role, being the failure that my friends most need. The extraordinary thing about me, my one great claim to fame, is that I've been thirty years a failure: every single book I've published over that time, in any country and in any language, has disappointed sales-wise. It may finally be time for those chickens to come home, with roosting on their mind.
Still'n'all, we're not done yet. I have another twenty years of failing in my sights. You can help. You can rub egg in the face of Ace, by buying "Bridge of Dreams" and pre-ordering "River of the World"; you can make my friend and last surviving publisher Kelly extremely happy by ordering Shelter, which was last heard of at the printers, so should be shipping any day now.
Me, I'm going away for a few days. Geographical distance, that's the thing.
And because I like you, I am not going to be interminable about this, I promise; but I do just need to go on about it for a little bit. Because you can mock if you like, but losing a publisher is actually not unlike losing a lover; it's a long-term relationship that you come to depend on, and then it's just gone, snap, and it leaves you reeling. In this case, it's out of the blue, completely unexpected (and on Valentine's Day, yet...!). So I've probably got all those stages of grief to go through. Sigh.
This isn't the first time I've been through this, but it is probably the worst. Partly for the lack of warning (it's a sales-based decision, and last I heard, they were reprinting the hardback before publication; I guess they must've had a great many returns. I can see why they wouldn't want to tell me, but I do kind of wish they had), and partly because I have no fallback this time.
I have Sondheim in my head, and even he's not helping. I am, I suppose, still here; but "In the Depression, was I depressed?" - Well, yes, actually. Who was it who said that to be truly happy in life, it wasn't enough to succeed; one must also see one's friends fail? I've always seen myself in that role, being the failure that my friends most need. The extraordinary thing about me, my one great claim to fame, is that I've been thirty years a failure: every single book I've published over that time, in any country and in any language, has disappointed sales-wise. It may finally be time for those chickens to come home, with roosting on their mind.
Still'n'all, we're not done yet. I have another twenty years of failing in my sights. You can help. You can rub egg in the face of Ace, by buying "Bridge of Dreams" and pre-ordering "River of the World"; you can make my friend and last surviving publisher Kelly extremely happy by ordering Shelter, which was last heard of at the printers, so should be shipping any day now.
Me, I'm going away for a few days. Geographical distance, that's the thing.