Pink feathers and sequins

The APress book deal is off, an event long time coming. We’re just working out the details now about the advance. The whys and wherefores aren’t important other than this necessitates some changes in my life.

I’ve just signed with a book agent (please don’t ask me her name, the relationship is new) to help me shop around another book idea. I won’t tell you what it’s about, or when I get a deal–I’ve learned my lesson about not talking about books until they’re on the street. I will say it’s not the same as the one for APress.

I am returning to my Developing ASP Components roots and focusing on more traditional tech writing. My audience is still similar to the audience for the LAMP series–interested and adventurous non-tech or non-geek tech. However, I’ll leave the poetry to the poets.

I feel that the Practical RDF book is primarily this type of writing, though I do wax poetically a bit in the first chapter. However, I have to give kudos to the reviewers and Simon St. Laurent for helping me keep on track. The credit for much of the success for this book has to go to them, while I, unfortunately, have to accept credit for the typos–I am an impatient proof reader sometimes when I’m tired, or anxious to finish.

I still have The Internet for Poets, and I think it’s a killer book and organization, but for now I’ll put it aside in favor of more easily consumable books: just as interesting, but perhaps not quite as out there.

Oh, the joys of being a writer, and why we do this. I read once that you know you’re a writer when you can’t imagine yourself being anything else. I know that some webloggers hope to make a career out of professional writing, though I’m not sure why. Perhaps they, too, can’t imagine doing anything else, but for some I believe it’s because they think this career is glamorous or profitable, and that you’ll become famous and respected. They might think it’s cool to work at home all the time.

The truth is you work 15 hour days with the hope that you might earn enough to pay the bills next month–if you drop health insurance and let the car payment slide–all the while listening to your roommate talk about what a great lunch he and his co-workers today, just before he settles down to a night of TV or reading. When you go to the vet to have your cat checked out and they ask what you do and you answer writer, they go, “Uhm, that’s nice”, because if they don’t recognize your name, they assume you’re just another writer wannabe. So next time you go to have your cat’s teeth cleaned, you take one of your books with you so you can slam it down on the counter–see this book has cats on it, is your excuse, so that the receptionist can see that you really are a writer.

I am not rich, or famous, and sometimes I tire of my own company when I look out my window at people having lives. But yes, I am glamorous. Do I have to design a black sequined, pink feathered boa, nippleless breasted, nose diamonded weblog to prove this?

I’d rather leave this to the guys

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