Top o’ the morning, dear ones! We’re gonna take a different approach to Wednesday this week. Instead of some H2O drenched beefcake picture, I’m going to introduce you to a friend of mine, and tell you that you should read his book.
As some of you may have heard (hah! Everyone in three time zones heard the squeals!), I have contracted with Champagne Books for publication of my Georgian Historical Romance, Proof of Love. One of the things I am already loving about Champagne is the close, supportive group of authors there. Friendly, warm and encouraging – kind of like the Sizzlers, but with guys! And one of the first authors who welcomed me to Champagne’s eloop was Mike Gordon. Mike, or to be more formal, Michael Robert Gordon, writes mysteries, and his book Killer Commute is available from Champagne and everywhere fine ebooks are sold.
Killer Commute features a hychondriacal retired detective who is working for the Transit Authority. He thinks his days as a sleuth are behind him, until a body turns up on his train. Then he’s off on the trail, working with his ex-wife’s new husband, a police detective, to solve the murder. Sounds great, huh? And that’s all I’ll tell you – you’ll just have to read the book to figure out whodunnit.
Mike has stopped by for a guest post today. Without further ado, here are the musings of Michael Robert Gordon on the state of the publishing industry:
James Brown sung it’s a man’s world! What happened to the publishing world? What happened to the readers? I’m not going to elaborate or speculate what occurred, but there has been a remarkable shift. There are more fiction women readers and writers. It used to be a man’s world. Come on, you know the deal. Women had to use their initials instead of their first names if they wanted to get their work published. Men ruled the publishing world. I dare to remind you! I don’t have any hard evidence though before this post is complete, I like most men attempt will to share some evidence to prove that my statement is correct. Note: There’s no hard evidence, but you’re thinking aren’t you?
Let me present to you to the first shred of evidence, this blog. The blog is managed by a group of women writers who appear to be quite supportive of one another. Men are downright selfish pigs who would rather sit in a small room or tap their keys on a train, or in isolation. That’s the way it is. At the end of the day it’s not about feeling good for the other guy, no you want to make sure his work doesn’t see the light of day. Take him down! Women, sisters, cast your love and sisterhood solidarity across the sea and seek and assist the gracious poets, novelists and play writes.
There was a time when I would read Mickey Spillane. Tell you why, I was in New Jersey and as I approached the Goethals Bridge, I saw Mickey Spillane Way. The man was born there. Also, ever see the movie Full Metal Jacket? Spillane was referenced. So, let me ask you, have you read any of the old Spillane books? He was the epitome of a paperback writer. I read a few of his books, got them for cheap on eBay, a whole lot of beat up paperbacks. The characters were the same. Tough guys. Women were dames and dolls. For a man, there was nothing wrong with a violent belt here or there ‘cause she deserves it. What? Really? I was shocked. I had a professor who warned his class of young students, if you are ever hit, run for miles and never go back. Just once.
In Japan it’s not uncommon to see a man reading a pornographic graphic novel. Not that I’ve been there, but I’ve heard; it’s accepted in society. Most women in those subways wouldn’t say a word of protest to the reader. If I was there I would want to know – what is that reader thinking? That could be my sister giving him looks that kill or my mother, daughter, even my wife. And I’d tell him to put it away. He’d look at me since he couldn’t understand what I was saying. I don’t speak Japanese. I’d slow down and speak louder and look angry, but he’d just go back to the pictures. When we lose respect for one another, a society reeks of decay.
What about now? Some critics use the words, chick lit or soft stuff, romance. Most women don’t need to write like a man to make their voices heard, they write for the most part with their words. Who are some of my favorite authors, Flannery O’Connor, Eudora Welty, and Annie Dillard. But my all time? Gabriel Garcia Marquez who wrote a beautiful novel Love in the Time of Cholera. Next time you meet a male writer, ask if he needs someone to read his book, make an effort to share your wisdom. You may bring some sisterhood into his writing.
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