Authors Starving in China

sproutsIf you’re old enough, you remember a scene, whether in real life or on TV, of a parent telling their food-fussy child “Eat your sprouts; there are children starving in China!”

(If only the kids could send their Brussel sprouts to China. But I digress.)

Do hungry children in another land make it more important for your kids to eat well? Perhaps there’s a thin, very thin, connection with showing appreciation that we don’t go wanting. Try telling that to a kid facing a pile of Brussel sprouts.

How often have you heard an author decry the lack of quality in self-published books, saying that lack of quality hurts us all?

Let’s mull this over, shall we?

Ever eaten a bad meal? I’ll bet you have. Did it put you off eating altogether? I doubt it.

Let’s tighten it up a bit: ever eaten a bad meal in a restaurant? Did it make you give up eating out?

Tighter: ever had bad food or bad service at your favorite restaurant? Did you stop going?

Reading a lousy book has never put anyone completely off reading.

Reading a bad self-published book has never put a book-lover completely off reading self-published books.

We are not selling a luxury item people can live without. Not to readers, we’re not. Reading is to the voracious spirit as eating is to an empty stomach.

These hungry hearts will not abandon their search simply because they haven’t yet found what they were looking for.

5 thoughts on “Authors Starving in China

  1. Joel, please, pleas spearhead a campaign to send all the Brussel spouts to China, via Mars if necessary. (Satan’s testicles, the vile things.)

    Oh, I’ve recovered enough from spouting about sproutings now to say: Yeah, I cringe when I see miscues, malapropisms and manglings in self-dubbed books—cringing even more when I was the editor—but they won’t deter me in the least from seeking out other self-pubbed works for literary solace and sustenance.

    But Brussel sprouts, good lord in heaven …

  2. I love ’em, but only the way I cook ’em. Fried or roasted. Never boiled. That’s like boiling lettuce.

  3. I tolerated Brussels sprouts back in the dark days of the 70s and 80s, when they were boiled. My dear Nana liked them, and I enjoyed them with her because she was so darn cool.
    Now I LOVE THEM. Roasted, with lemon pepper spicing. Oh my. They speak to us of heaven, Tom, not that other place.
    And Joel, splendid post. You draw an analogy that has a strong bass line and reverb to boot.
    Now I’m going to raise a beer and a brace of Brussels sprouts to all those folk who thirst for remarkable libations, tasty food and simmering cauldrons of meaningful ideas.
    Especially self-published cauldrons.

  4. I’m trying to recall, now, whether I’ve done lemon pepper. Seems likely.

    I think the lunch menu has just been adjusted.

    (So, Rick, when’s that next book coming out?)

Leave a Reply