No. Not anymore. Are you surprised by the so-called trends in publishing? Are you surprised by the rhetoric of individuals in the publishing industry making claims that don’t resonate with what you think, see, hear, and read everywhere on the net or in talking with fellow readers?
I don’t hear/read a lot of them because if I took the time to read every professional’s blog who has something informative or of consequence posted, it would be a 24/7 endeavor. And let’s face it: one individual speaks the exact opposite of another many times over. So what’s the point? The point in visiting the many poignant sites on the web is that if you’re new to the writing game, there’s a ton of valuable information to absorb. If you’re so at the beginning of the gig, it’s difficult to apply a custom-made filter. After all, these folks are professionals. Inevitably, if you follow enough of them, you will ask, “What should I believe? What shall I do?” Who wouldn’t? And who hasn’t?
I recommend stubbornness. Only because I am. However, it’s not for everyone. Actually, it’s especially not for those who aren’t famous writers. Or for those who might want to become one someday.
You see stubbornness refuses to adhere to some of the commonalities of expression which tell us: “Male protagonists are not popular, won’t work, etc., in CBA romance and women’s fiction. Women don’t like to read about men.” Oh really? Just because male protagonists work everywhere else from the general market to television to films, they don’t work in CBA. Let me tell you something: I would prefer to read about men! I’m downright sick of whiny women. Or uppity ladies who think they can outsmart, outwork, and out-do men.
Being stubborn forces you to take a stand. To believe in something enough to proclaim it and stick to it. To rant on like I do about certain elements of publishing that don’t make common sense to this dullard. But, hey, stubbornness means you can count on disagreement, condescension, and at least a few tsks you can’t hear—you sense them more than anything.
Why wouldn’t I write about what I like to read? Why wouldn’t I believe in the stories I’ve written? Why wouldn’t I think they have a place in contemporary literature? Not to say they’re all important pieces of work. Not to say they can’t be improved upon. But just to say: I’m not changing them to the point that they don’t resemble my work because what I write isn’t “popular, won’t work, fit, do in CBA”. No.
What little phrases raise your ire? How ‘bout: “Speculative fiction doesn’t sell in CBA.” Smirk. That usually starts a discussion . . .
Lord, my hope is in you. Period. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Into the Fire 
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