Diary

Friday, March 11 (cont'd)

The Friends of Jack Saunders

Q: If you don't sell books in a bookstore, how are you going to make a living?

A: I'm not selling books in a bookstore now.

I want to make people have to come and ask me nicely for a book, and if I don't like their looks, or their attitude, I won't let them buy one. I won't sell them one.

I don't agree with the idea that anyone with $15 in its pocket can buy one of my books.

I don't think they should have to grovel, exactly. But they should show respect.

Q: Money is how you measure respect. The more money you have, the more respect you get.

A: Not to me. To me, the more money you have the less respect you get.

What did you do to get the money?

The fewer resources you had to accomplish what you did, the more respect I give you.

Q: How can you sell something people can get on the Internet for free?

A: I expect to be banned from the Internet. Because my work is unsuitable or inappropriate. My days on the Internet are numbered.

But that's a good thing.

You don't miss the water until the well runs dry.

I'm like a canary in a coal mine, warning people that the well is running dry, to mix a metaphor.

Q: The canary died.

A: What do you think they're trying to do to me?

What does it do to a writer to suppress his work?

Q: Make him bitter?

A: It wears him away. By attrition.

He can only bang his head on the brick stone wall of the world's indifference for so long. Before his head cracks open like a ripe papaya, or Zero Zilenski's kingfish.

Q: If you can't sell them, and you can't give them away, how will you support yourself?

A: Donations. Love offerings. From the Friends of Jack Saunders.

From people who care about writing. Who want to resist brand bullying and corporate control of our culture.

From no-Oprah logo people. No-Oprah people.

I don't know.

Did you see everyone fawning over her, at the Oscars?

It was like the scene in The Magic Christian when grand guy Guy Grand throws the $100 bills in the vat of cow shit, piss, and blood, and the men in suits and hats with rolled umbrellas go in after it.

How did Terry Southern make it?

Quitting

Q: How are you feeling? You look sort of down.

A: I'm quitting coffee. And beer.

It's like mourning the passage of two old friends.

Plus, in the case of coffee, there are withdrawal symptoms.

It's like a mild case of flu.

You have headaches, lassitude, your joints hurt. You may get a cold.

I took naps the first three days.

You get depressed.

You're not getting a lift from the upper you are used to.

So, yea, I am a little down.

It will pass.

Q: Have you ever been so depressed you couldn't work?

A: You're right, I shouldn't even call it depression.

Brenda got depressed.

I have seen depression.

I'm just sad, I feel like what I am doing is pointless, it's hard to get motivated. I work mainly out of habit, and work ethic.

And it doesn't last long. Or never has, in my case.

Q: You have a lot to be grateful for.

A: I know. On the other hand, my life would discourage all but the most resolute souls.

It's a constant barrage of rejection slips and the success of others in my stead. And interference.

Q: But you don't have interference now.

You have a book coming out.

That's something to look forward to.

A: It is and I am looking forward to it.

I am enjoying my time at the house, without the intrusions of a job.

I'll feel better once I get over the early stages of caffeine withdrawal.

And start exercising.

My back went out the other day, so I am resting up, before I begin exercising, in earnest.

Q: Hope you feel better soon.

A: I will. Thanks.


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