The 400th Post

400 posts is a lot.

My first post, when I was doing this over at Substack, was back on August 16th, 2023. That's not even two years ago! And while I'm sure Truman Capote might say that it's not writing, it's typing, which would hurt, admittedly, it still feels like a good accomplishment. Especially now, as a constant dirge of worry and anger gums up my creative process.

I started this on a whim.

In the summer of 2023, I was feeling a bit despondent about my writing and the state of publishing, both traditional and self-publishing, and how awful they both are now. I was thinking about how it used to be, like if you were a regular mid-list genre author published by the big houses, sure, there probably wasn't any advance to speak off, but it still meant editors, cover artists, advertising. Your book might even get stocked in the good locations in the book stores, because there used to be book stores. A lot of them. But more importantly, it also gave you some cred, some verve, some prestige, you had a little shine on you, y’know? It used to be, no matter how much your book sells, or how well received it was, if you were published, then you had a real book. Whatever else happened, you had that. You could point to it on the shelf. There it is, right there. And you hadn’t just put it there yourself either, others had deemed it worthy of existing in the real world, others had recognized its worth. Not many people could say the same about their work. It meant something.

But that shit is gone now, for the most part.

So I was feeling a little depressed about that because, while I've haven't queried anything in a long time, I doubt I ever will again now. A big part of that is the state of the world, and all our uncertain futures, but that shit aside, why bother, really? The simple and undeniable truth is, that time has passed. The publishing houses aren't there. The market isn't there. The support network isn't there. Shit, not even the readers are there. Not like it was, not with streaming services and video games. That isn’t me being a crotchety old man either, well… at least not any more than usual… this is me being honest. I know I’m certainly not the reader I once was. I try to be, but I’m not. Are you? Sales charts seems to indicate that, at least as far as mid-list genre stuff goes, you definitely aren’t. Not anymore. So why bother trying for that route anymore? The Pass of Caradhras is blocked, and our only option left is the Mines of Moria. Because no one's selling and no one's buying. An unknown author shopping around genre fiction novels these days is almost guaranteed as bad a deal as someone trying to sell genre short stories, there's just no market.

And of course, all of this is obviously me assuming that I'd even be good enough to get published in the first place, which, y’know… your mileage may vary.

But all that shit aside too...

The simple fact is, much like video stores, and maybe even comics some day soon too, that whole era is done and gone. It will never be back, and there's nothing you can do about it.

So naturally, I was brooding on that, and the option of self-publishing as well, because that’s the other side of the coin when it comes to modern publishing. For some, at least. I'm less excited by it. For me, the problem with Self-Publishing is, even if you're successful, it's just not the same. I could self-publish tomorrow, if I wanted, because it's really no different than doing stuff like this blog. It's fine, but it just doesn’t feel the same. And I'll freely admit it, it’s the acknowledgment that’s the thing that’s missing from the whole equation. I know it’s not cool to admit that, after all, we’re doing art for art’s sake, right? But it’s true, that was the thrill of it. You know it was. It meant that you were chosen, that you were in the club. That was an anointing, man. It was a crown of laurels.

But like I said, for the most part, all that shit is gone now.

Even worse, if you do self-publish, whether you’re actually good or not, the fact is, you probably won't be successful.

Part of the reason why is because self-publishing means that it's all on you. Every facet of it. All of the things traditional publishing provided once upon a time, now you have to do. (Although, to be fair, that's the reality with traditional publishing now too, which really makes me question the value of that option as well. Why am I sharing my potential profits with you if you don't provide an editor, and I have to do my own advertising? That crappy AI generated cover?) And while it's fairly easy, at least in theory, to find an amazing editor and an amazing cover artist, if you look—mostly because the publishing industry has laid so many of them off that they’re out there too, all of them desperately looking for work doing the thing they love, and once got paid for, before the world moved on–it’s the advertising that’s the real problem. That's the main reason why you won't be successful. It's because nobody cares, and nobody is listening.

Mostly because nobody can hear you.

Elon Musk choked the last town square on the internet to death in the saddest attempt to buy friends in the history of humanity. And when he failed miserably, because he is so incredibly naturally repellent, he settled for filling it with as many Nazis and dipshit sycophants he could find (And there’s definitely no shortage of those pathetic losers on Al Gore’s internet), so now, other than those bigot fuckers and an absolute deluge of bots, Twitter is just a broken-down haven for sad sack fuckholes addicted to the ever-fading dopamine rush they get from their likes and follower counts.

So that tool is gone.

Meanwhile, Bezos and Zuckerberg have weaponized the algorithm, so now, it's no good for anything other than conspiracy theories, racism, and transphobia in the name of “protecting the kids,” or wellness grifts like raw milk and essential oils, so those places have turned into the worst kind of online dirt-mall, inhabited by the most narrow-minded, entitled idiot, bigot asshole white people imaginable, every one of them rabidly parroting whatever the current talking points du jour is from their preferred racist “news” source that is blaring 24/7 in the background, and/or whatever “both-sides” bullshit they just heard on their favorite steroid-head men’s rights podcast. No one who doesn’t already have their head up their ass wants to immerse themselves in that shit, or tolerate those who revel in it…

By the way, why the fuck are you still on Facebook and Instagram?

Anyway, so this is all to say that, the reality now is that random things are no longer able to bob to the surface on other people's timelines anymore. It means that it’s much less likely anyone is going to randomly stumble across your stuff. It means that going viral is basically impossible, not for more than half a day or so at best, and either way, going viral is definitely not going to happen when all you're doing is pushing some random little creative product.

In a nutshell, when it comes to internet marketing… it's all fucked now. Just like everything is this country. It's fucked. And what options are truly left? You gonna buy an ad in the fucking paper? Who reads the fucking paper anymore?

And on top of all that… there’s the simple fact that once the process of self-publishing became an easy option for even the biggest luddites, it instantly (and let’s be honest here, somewhat deservedly) gained a reputation for catering to the untalented, the hacks, the boring, and for those who want "fame and glory" more than they're willing to do the work and for some reason seem to think genre fiction is the place to find it. Now, whether this is an accurate reflection of reality now or not, self-publishing is still thought of as the place where the vain, the terrible, and the pathetic go to pretend at glory they never could’ve earned. It is considered to be the go-to option for those who are too lazy to do multiple drafts, or are too much of an asshole to handle some much needed constructive critique.

Either way, because there's no system, because everyone is jostling for attention in increasingly smaller spaces, the world of self-published genre fiction marketing is like innocently opening a door, only to be blasted right in the face, staggering back, battered by the howling cacophony of crap behind it. Then, through eyes squeezing shut against the maelstrom, in the flicker and flash of lightning, seeing a writhing, squirming pile of filthy and nakedly desperate souls struggling within the center of the tempest, and then they see you, and instantly, they're all shrieking at you, and there's a rush of scrambling and sliding over other shit-smeared bodies, all of them straining out for you, trying to reach you, a relentless deafening squall of noise, all of it begging, pleading for your attention, shoving handfuls of wet excreta at you…

No matter how good your book might actually be–and I'm sure there's a ton of really good ones out there–there’s no world where your voice doesn’t get lost in that raging shit storm.

To make a long story short (too late...), I was thinking about that shit, and not feeling good about it, especially now that it's gotten even worse with the rise of that absolute blight on creativity, GenAI, and I was dwelling on how, the worst part of all of this is, no matter how much it might suck, self-publishing really is the only option anymore.

So I started this blog!

Fuck it, right? Besides, who cares? Art for art's sake. And let’s be honest here, down on the bottom levels, if you're not doing this shit for yourself first, last, and only, then you're just wasting your own time, because no one else gives a shit. And what else am I going to do? Fiddle while Rome burns? Okay, that’s fair, that is kind of what I’m doing here, but whatever. It’s all I know how to do. Besides, while it’s not like this blog is lucrative or anything, the one real upside to self-publishing is, if I were to (hopefully) make a little bit of money off this at some point, probably like $14 or whatever… then I might as well keep all $14 for myself, right, instead of sharing it with some publishing house that’s given me nothing.

So yeah, I started this blog. I appreciate you reading it.

The plan has long been to post pieces of the book I'm kinda/sorta working on, and there you go, it exists, I guess. It's out there. With few good options, I will make my own. Plus, I could use the space to repost some of my old film reviews I had put up over at my now dead Instagram account. I could post new reviews too. And maybe some of my short stories as well. It would be a place just for me. That was it. That was the plan. No pressure. No demand. My stuff. All on my own time.

And now here we are, 86 weeks later, with 400 posts. 

That's a post every one and a half days. It’s 382 film, tv, and comic book reviews under the Reviews tag, five pieces of fiction under the Fiction tag, six under the Lists and Commentary tag, and six posts (seven, counting this one) that are under the Site News tag. And in addition to those sections, there's also a tag for the films that I saw while I was at the Trieste Science Fiction Film Festival. There's also my list of 20 Most Influential Films. There's even a tag for all the comic book related stuff I talk about, as well as all the Zombie stuff. And of course, there's my list of Traditional Christmas movies. Soon enough, there's even going to be a tag for my Work in Progress. Soon, not quite yet. Not today at least. And on top of all that, I also have a whopping forty-one subscribers, my friends! Forty-one! That’s nearly fifty! Which is halfway to 100! Triple digits!

That's not too shabby, right?

Of course, the plan has had some disruptions, because the world is all bad, so like all good things, it got shit on, and once again, it was by white America.

As I said, originally, this dumb little blog of mine was over on Substack. Substack is a free hosting platform that managed to become all the rage for a bit, but then it turned out that, much like everything else in this fucking country, Substack has a Nazi problem. And because Tech Bro FuckKnuckles are incapable of seeing the world through any lens save their own entitlement, greed, and victimhood, these floppy-haired dipshits in hoodies and too-bright white shoes announced they don’t have a problem with providing a platform for Nazis and Hate Speech. The main reason they said this is because, like most white people, they don't have a problem with the views of Nazis, because its pretty much what they grew up hearing in their homes, churches, and communities, where it was referred to it as "common sense." And what that means is, the views of Nazis are pretty popular, especially with the majority of white Americans, so when those views are monetized, they pay out big time. And guess what? Substack gets a cut of that sweet, sweet Nazi gold. So yeah, the assholes in charge of Substack definitely have zero problems with any of that, because they have zero problems with getting fat stacks of cash. They certainly don’t care whose blood is on it, or where it comes from, and they aren’t going to ask questions, because why bother pretending?

They just don’t give a single fuck. 

Money uber alles. This is the core principle this country was built upon. This the reason why Trump is currently using white America’s deeply-engrained belief in their own divinely-bestowed racial superiority, as well as their racism, entitlement, hatred, and love of cruelty, to destroy this country… because the most important thing in the world to people like him is money in their own pockets.

So... I ditched my Substack and moved everything to Ghost.

A non-profit organization that uses open source technology to provide a platform for publishing, Ghost was founded in April 2013, with a constitution that ensures the company is never bought or sold, and that one hundred percent of its revenue is reinvested into the product and the community. Their funding model means that they don't need to rely on external donations or on grant funding, because they are completely self-sufficient. This keeps the wealthy and privileged from being able to get their grubby little meathooks into it too (hopefully, at least for awhile), but best of all... there doesn't seem to be a Nazi problem.

So far.

What this all really means now is that my little blog is no longer free. I have to pay for it. And while I'll always provide full access to my posts for my free subscribers, should you ever decide that maybe you want to kick a few bucks my way, either on an annual or a monthly basis, well… I'm your huckleberry.

Just know that you're a daisy if you do.

So what are my plans moving forward?

Well, first of all, I would like to remind my subscribers to always check the site. This is a self-publishing endeavor, and as I mentioned above, that means it’s crap, and also, I don’t have an editor. Plus, it’s fair to say that the fine art of punctuation has never been my strong suit. Neither has spelling. Or math. Or sprinting, if I'm being honest, but I was a surprisingly strong distance runner back in my days of service, which also probably explains my love of run-on sentences. But all that's neither here nor there. My point is, no matter how many times I might read these things before I hit post, I always see a ton of typos afterwards. Those typos then live forever in the emails, but on the site… I will, most likely, maybe, eventually... correct them. Probably.

I assume.

Also, as I have mentioned before, I have a decent backlog of reviews that are waiting in the wings. Like twenty, I think. I will get to them in due time. I’m on the backside of my 20 favorite movies list, and the films that I saw in Trieste series too, so those will be wrapping up. Finally, just fyi, I watched the new Captain America movie, as it is now streaming, and I'll probably post a review of that sooner rather than later, because good or bad, the MCU is totally my jam. Just be warned, the same is going to be true for James Gunn's DC Movies too, once they get under way with Superman this summer, and the 2nd season of Peacemaker on HBO.

So, y’know… big plans.

But first–and this is my big news–it’s been a long time coming, but after almost two years, my next two posts will be about my Work in Progress, better known as my WIP, better known as the entire reason that I started this blog.

That’s the big news. That's the big plans.

First, meaning tomorrow or maybe the day after, I‘ll be posting a primer of sorts. This will be an explanation of the book, and some context about my inspirations and intent. It will also have an early version of what the book’s back cover synopsis might have looked like, if it were but a few scant years ago, and you were spending your day, maskless and idly browsing the fiction stacks at a Barnes & Noble, having resigned yourself to a way-too-sweet and way-too-expensive Starbucks Cold Press, and you happened to spot my book on the shelf, so you picked it up and turned it over in your hand to read the back...

Then, a day or two after that, I’m planning on posting the first three chapters of the book. They're still in progress, of course, and who knows, things may change, but for now at least, they're the first three chapters. I hope you like them.

So yeah... BIG plans. Big, exciting, and kind of scary plans, but fuck it, right? I’m venturing out. It’s the only real option left.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen...

Y'know, originally, when I titled this blog At the End of Everything (A Work in Progress) it’s because that’s what it was. Also, it’s the working title of my WIP. Unfortunately, in the time since it was so christened, it's become a more accurate reflection of our reality than I would’ve liked it to be. It's a reminder of how god damn terrible everything is now, and how every single day is a new betrayal, and that the people responsible for all of this, did it because this is what they wanted. Every day now, if feels like we’re stuck on increasingly smaller and smaller islands, forced to hole up behind the walls of our little redoubts as the forests and fields all around us ring with the howls of monsters and enemies.

So what else can I do?

Here we are. This is our reality. Nothing we can do but play the hand we're dealt, right? So, until the eventual day when the overwhelming majority of white America eagerly votes for the billionaires and corporations to privatize the internet, and the white Nationalist Christians make it illegal to threaten their free speech by voicing any opinions they don’t agree with, my plan is... This is where I'll be, standing on the walls of my fortress and sending up flares, and hopefully, anyone out there who sees them will know that I'm still here. You're still here. And that, while it might be a shitty world out there right now…

We're not alone.

Art for Art’s sake.