by Shelt Garner
I posted a call for a “reader” on the NYC Craig’s List and all I got was grief from people about how I was being both “stupid and delusional.” This came in no small part from the fact that I said things like “no — or little — money” and how I wanted the novel to be a “guilty pleasure for Woke Park Slope Moms.”
I guess I WAS being delusional and stupid.
And, yet, no one cares about what I’m doing. No one believes in me. I generally have a very quirky — and obsessive — personality and this novel has officially consumed my entire creative life. Which is good. I’m using what little ability I have to produce something at the high end of my ability.
I still want this novel to be a guilty pleasure for educated, wealthy women. But not in, like, a 50 Shades kind of way. More a novel that is really thought provoking and has strong female characters in it in a way that educated women really like. But I absolutely no idea what I’m doing.
I guess I’m just kind of annoyed how Olivia Wilde and Jessica Chastain complain about how guys can’t write female characters and I want to prove them wrong. I don’t know how successful I’ll ultimately be, but this irritation definitely gives me incentive to do better than I might otherwise.
Shrug. No one cares what I’m doing. I can do anything I want.