28 January 2013

d r e a m s

One of the several humiliating features about writing fiction for a living is that here after all is just about everybody else, all along the capitalist spectrum from piano movers to systems analysts, cheerfully selling their body parts according to time-honoured custom & usage, while it's only writers, out at the fringes of the entertainment sector, wretched and despised, who are obliged, more intimately and painfully, to sell their dreams. To be upbeat about it, though, in most cases it doesn't present much of a moral problem since dreams seldom makes it through into print with anything like the original production values anyway.

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