To write for a living.
I realize that at the age of twenty-nine, I have
written seven feature-length screenplays, three
novels, two complete collections of poetry, several
travelogue journals and thousands of pages of
personal journals. I have been writing on a daily
basis since I was nineteen.
Yet I have never put much effort into getting
my work published, nor have I focussed on making
a living as a writer. In total, I have made $12.00
as a writer, even though I wrote full-time for
two amazing winters. However, I am getting old
now, and it is no longer acceptable to make that
kind of money. Nor is it acceptable for me to
live without writing full-time. There are a dozen
books that I could start work on tomorrow, if
I had the time. I believe that I owe myself the
right to be able to work on these books on a daily
basis. If I do not try to give myself this opportunity,
I will certainly be a bitter, bitter old man.
Therefore, I will be working with a very small
group of people interested in starting a publishing
house, and together we will publish
Nunt.There is a significant risk to this sort
of self-invested approach, but it has to be done.
Therefore, I will be working very hard with these
people to ensure the publication of Nunt is a
success. No matter what it takes.
If I have to drive across the country in a pink
boogie van selling books from the cooler in order
for this book to succeed, so be it.
If I have to wear a nun's habit for three months,
so be it.
If I have to streak across a soccer field with
Nunt painted on my back, shake hands and kiss
babies and lie like a politician, make a complete
buffoon out of myself on national television,
and gamble every penny I have on this one shot,
so be it.
If I have to shame my friends and my family and
become pariah, so be it.
If this whole gambit fails spectacularly and I
am the laughing stock of Canadian letters and
am forever ruined, in every sense of the word,
so be it.
At least I will know that I took a real swing
at achieving the goal I have had since I was nineteen
years old. At least I won't spend the rest of
my life working at a secondary job without being
able to say, well fuck, at least I tried.
The whole thing is frightening, but I really need
to spend my days writing.
So here we go.
November 03, 2003