My normal routine before morning writing starts with my briefly reading from a literary work that I think will be inspirational, something from a writer who has set the bar high and therefore will serves as an imaginary writing coach, yelling at me to jump a little higher, dig a little deeper as the words of my story begin to flow. This morning my coach is Raymond Carver. While I'm not always fond of what I call The New Yorker short story, I must admit his stories work for me. I just finished reading a story of his and I loved it. I didn't find myself thinking --as I often do with a lot of TNY stories -- the bus ride was great...but that's it? This is the bus stop? Are you kidding me? I don't even know where I am.
Now, about the knuckleheads. I recently read a Rolling Stone Magazine blog story about how some of the old rock musicians are refusing to have their music sold through iTunes. They feel that the low price, and everything else that goes with digital distribution, is a bad thing, and they don't want any part of it. As a writer, I can understand that. But then I read what someone posted in response to that story, and I was irked. The troublesome poster basically said this: The old artists don't get the new distribution system. They should be giving their music away for free, offering everything at no cost as downloads from their websites, and raking in the fortunes from the advertising they sell on their websites. To that ridiculous person, who is scarily not alone in his opinion, I offer this: When you are sitting in your cubicle at work and you don't see anyone coming by with your paycheck, remember its not your work that you should be counting on to make a living, but instead the advertising revenue opportunities provided by your cubicle.
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