Coffee & Conversation

Early Monday morning I met another writer at Starbucks for my annual gripe session over the current sorry state of publishing.  In the past year, I've had more than one editor inform me that, while my book concepts were solid and well-written, the firm was only going to publish "sure things" or works by "best-selling" authors.  Since I am neither of these things, they would not take a chance on publishing "good writing."

Okay, I guess that's why I order cups of coffee.  Since I don't drink bourbon, I have to drown my sorrows in something.  I'll just keep drinking java.

Weird thing, in the past two weeks I've had several conversations with the accounting department of one publisher, trying to coax them into sending me a royalty check that, by my figures, I am owed.  But publishers want to hang onto their money, even though they only pay twice a year.  Never mind that we are talking about chump change.  It's hard work cutting a check.

Next week I plan to up the ante.  I'm going to work a new angle, telling the publisher that the utility company is going to cut off my electricity, or that my wife needs braces, or that my cars are falling apart.  Not all of it will be a lie, but a good story never hurts. 

I need to do something to get that $34.50 check . . . the grand total for my two years of book sales.  What is that, by the way . . . twelve cups of coffee? 

And since I give my royalties to God's work, I guess I should just turn this over to the Lord.  Maybe he can talk some sense into them.  God, this round is on me!