Most of the people who read this post probably know who I am. If you don’t I’ll be surprised. What I will say is that if you want people to read what you wrote you need to shill yourself. If you attained any inkling of a readership, or had people stumble across your literature organically, without any advertising you’re the luckiest motherfucker in the world. Often times, it doesn’t happen that way. Rarely does anyone just finds something you write on the internet on accident for many reasons. You need some sort of social capital, or network to make that happen, whether by way of advertisement, friends, and so on. Maybe more important than a promising writing ability, is the ability to get people to read what you write. Art is a two way street. That’s reality.
There’s used to be a common hope surrounding literary journals, those who would want to promote good work, is the common belief that good literature deserves to be published, garner attention. Whatever. I want that too. But what I recognized is that in the appraisal of good quality, there comes with journals’ attention is a perpetuated hope that they are purveyors of quality.
I hope that when I send a piece to a journal, I am being treated with the razors edge of quality, and that I am not getting published on the merit of a marginalized position in society. That whatever I worked so hard on, isn’t a token or trading card for someone else’s increased social capital.
Tommy isn’t a gay black writer who’s writing is being utilized as a trading card for good boy points. He is a good writer, who writes quality stuff. Octave isn’t from X a group, or manipulating/faking his identity, to cash in on “marginalization” so somebody else can jerk their ego. That’s what you’d hope. You wouldn’t know one way or the other unless I get doxxed (for those of you who don’t know me).
It’s in many writers’ best interests to subjugate themselves to a position of social weakness to improve their likelihood of publication. What makes me nervous, mores what stands affront to the general affectation for equality, is the idea that it suddenly becomes valuable to reduce yourself to a point of disempowerment.
Today, identity mining is a quick way to increase your social capital. That is what is happening. Don’t act like you don’t see it. Suddenly, many writers find it quite valuable to scrounge for morsels of individual disenfranchisement. Suddenly you start questioning your sexuality, or find out your mom in one-eighth jewish or some crazy shit. You name it. The point is, suddenly, the weight of cruelty can be exchanged at the Justin Trudeau bank of social currency, and now every bad thing that ever happened to your identity group, is getting utilized as points in a pissing contest. The problem, for many reasons, is that many quality writers are now for obligation of publication interested in the obligation to write weakly.
There’s no doubt about it, marginalization is weakness. Call a spade a spade. No matter what your political inclination: Don’t bullshit yourself. If you are a marginalized writer, (imagine any instance), that sucks. The point is, never trade in your soul in order to attain a weaker state in life. If you are a writer, a painter, an artist, as naive as it sounds, I have a level of respect for you that I would not garner to the very well paid. You are honest because you are poor. If you are faithful or stupid or wise enough to attach this reading to the earthly poverty of Christian principles; you have my trust.
If you are well to do, I am happy for you.
The point still stands. If you do something for free, you are doing it because you believe in it. I feel absurd every single day of my life for sitting down at the computer and typing shit. Though one thing you cannot say is that I am a liar. I wish I was getting paid. I wish I could be a liar, but I cannot say something I don’t believe. Alas I am a financially humbled cretin. That means I am at the minimum… honest… naked. That means you can trust me.