I am trying to set myself up for independence, by which I mean a life of leisure. Therefore my goal is to do something amazing that provides me with royalties for years. Things that would enable this lifestyle include starring in a Hollywood box office hit, marrying an oil baron or whatever the new equivalent of that is (bamboo baron? Ecologically friendly wealth), or writing the next big franchise-able bestseller like J. K. Rowling or Stephanie Meyer. The first two take a considerable amount of effort on my part, mostly involving exercise, getting into parties with rich people, probably some nudity, and the success would result in scrutiny from the press.
The bestseller, on the other hand - no, don't look at your other hand; it's just a figure of speech - just requires an imagination, a word processor, and to not step on anyone's copyright toes. The great thing about being a famous author is that oftentimes readers would rather not know what the author looks like, so no paparazzi follow authors around. You may have heard of Tom Clancy, read a few books and watched some movies based thereon, but would you recognize him if you bumped into him on the street? Don't lie to me. You wouldn't. So therefore shall I also be rich and famous yet unrecognizable.
I feel that the fight to get published is largely about balancing originality with mass appeal. Since wizards and vampires are already done, I can either write about vampire wizards and top them both, or find some new fantasy creature that could kill you and probably wants to but that everyone still finds sexy. Mrs. Meyer also cornered the werewolves, a pox on her head. At first I thought of Frankenstein's monster, but a guy made from other dead guys doesn't hold that much sex appeal.
I've also debated combining elements of the Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and Peter Pan to appeal to the younger crowd whose parents buy them whatever the heck they want. I thought about borrowing bits from The Golden Compass, but the movie version didn't do so well,* so scratch that. Basically, my idea is that a band of adolescent lost girl pirates fall through a treasure chest into a new world where they have to throw a bracelet (read: not a ring) into a volcano, and a wizard dwarf fairy guide helps them along and occasionally makes them fly. And then they get attacked by elves, and have to sail somewhere with a long lost prince (potential for romance? Donezo) in a boat called the Dusk Meanderer, and when they complete their task they fall back out of the treasure chest, only they haven't aged at all and Jack Sparrow is trying to steal their rum. Good idea? Look for it in your local bookstore in 200Never.
I had said in a previous post that I was writing a book, but that I didn't ever want to talk about it. Someone, however, ignored my request to never speak of my shame (you know who you are), and now I feel the need to explain why I even bothered to write something that I didn't really want people knowing about. The truth, kids, is that it's part of this independence scheme. Considering that I have no five-year plan, not even a two-year plan, I need to do something now that could earn me money in the future. You know, when I stop teaching in Japan and spend a year looking for a job because the U.S. economy doesn't want to support me. My ultimate goal of lazy housewifery seems like a pipe dream, only slightly less realistic than becoming a published author, and the longer I work for other people the more I realize I am not suited for it. Fluorescent lights, name tags, dress codes, getting out of bed before 8 a.m. every day and wasting the best part of the day indoors is not for me. I'm an untameable mustang, like that horse in the animated film Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron which I never saw.
I know, I know. Getting published is darn difficult. There are letters to write, agents to find, negotiations to make, and sure rejection to face. Looking at the Google Analytics report of number of visitors to my blog, I'm missing something when it comes to attracting readers. There are blogs like http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ about nothing that get the same readership in a day that I get in a year. Okay, yes, I don't have badly-draw-yet-hilariously-apropos pictures. I'm not sure I've ever made a stranger have to hide his or her laughter snorts when reading my blog at the office. Nevertheless, I question my ability to write something that the general public, not just friends and family, will want to read.
And don't worry; I understand that writing itself isn't just a stroll down Easy Street. When I look at the successful authors I know (one: Dr. Jan Dargatz, auntie extraordinaire) I see that writing is constant work. It's my kind of work, though - work that can be done anywhere and at anytime, and while wearing any amount of clothing, the ideal of which is zero. I'd be doing something at which the Tulsa County Library and my high school A.P. English teacher said I'm skilled. I don't have to go back to school to do it (I'm mean mugging you, Music). And best of all, it's something I can totally use an excuse when people ask me in the future why I'm still sleeping on friends' couches instead of getting a real job. "I just need that time to write," I'll say, and scratch my unwashed body thoughtfully.
*By "so well," I mean that it seems a sequel is unlikely. The film was reported to under-perform both in the U.S. and abroad. In my opinion, that just shows that people don't like being hammered with anti-religion messages throughout a film any more than with pro-religion ones, and not just in societies that still have strong ties to Christianity. Suck it, proud atheist Philip Pullman. When watching the film I personally started rolling my eyes. Okay, I get it, you hate religion. Get to the exciting stuff. Holy Fart that polar bear just knocked the other polar bear's jaw off how is this a good movie for children!?
Next up on my list of posts: Why I associate creative writing with pretension and d-baggery. It's almost as complicated as carrying or not carrying a collapsible umbrella.