three cents: this machine kills fascists

"three cents" is about creative work, money, and love,
and I send it to you about once a month

1. a thing about money
I've felt conflicted about sending out a new "three cents" ever since shit got real in America on November 8, because this edition of this newsletter is supposed the big one, marketing-wise: My book, Scratch, comes out on January 3, and so now is the time when, according to the Book Marketing Best Practices gods, I am supposed to really cash in on the transactionality of the relationship I've thus far established with you, my lovely e-correspondents, by somehow turning emails into book sales. This—yes, this very email right here—is the culmination of a carefully cultivated relationship, yours and mine, a relationship which, I gather, is supposed to go a little something like this:

1. writer starts tinyletter 
2. writer delivers free content to readers via said tinyletter
3. readers perceive and appreciate value of said content, plus they really feel like they know the writer a little bit, you know?, and that's nice for everyone, honestly
4. thus, writer successfully continues to build "platform" 
5. meanwhile, writer finishes and prepares to publish book that was originally, probably a couple years ago, sold to publisher based partially on promise of said platform
6. writer continues to deliver free content to readers and "builds buzz" by including plugs for the book
7. but not too many plugs, because that's tacky
8. [magic]*
9. readers buy writer's book* 
10. writer makes some money, maybe, eventually?*
*steps 8–10 not guaranteed

Don't get me wrong: I love writing these emails—letters are my favorite form of communication—and I am continually grateful and surprised that some of you appear to enjoy reading them, and I have met wonderful thinkers and also just very nice folks through this venue. (And I'm not going to stop doing it after my book comes out!) But at the bottom of our relationship—yes, this relationship right here—is that implied or promised transaction. And I can't not fulfill that, it wouldn't be fair to readers, but mostly it wouldn't be fair to myself, right?

So, this is where I'm announcing my book tour and San Francisco launch party. This is where I'm encouraging you to preorder the book for yourself and others, to read the good advance reviews and leave reviews of your own on Amazon and Goodreads, to walk into your local indie bookstore and ask for the book to be stocked, to take my workshop if you'll be in NYC this February. This is where I start reminding you to Tweet about it and Face about it and Snap about it. This is where I gaze towards the skies and raise my fist and plaintively cry, Look, Best Marketing Practices Gods, I am doing All The Things!

And then along comes fascism. 

2. a thing about writing 
At its heart, Scratch is a book about the relationship between art and commerce. The story goes like this: It's complicated. Capitalism taints art, and art is too honest and good to fit into capitalism. Art is about beauty and possibility, not profit. So it can be hard and confusing to be an artist ("writer") but also a worker,  and we should all talk about this and understand it instead of hiding from and fearing it. Cue twitter debates, blog posts, web zines, anthologies.

I would like to make this story even more complicated. Because regardless of where you stand on the "art + money" equation, it is an incontrovertable fact that it is the job of writers to seek and illuminate truths. Writers might do this through investigative reporting or fictional universes or really heartfelt Tumblr posts, but if you are a person who considers writing to be your job, then it is your job to expose the truth. 

So, uh, here's a truth:

We are now in an era in which the freedom of speech and expression, freedom of the press, of artists and individuals, is threatened. Urgently, actually threatened. For many of us, this is a first in our lifetimes. And it's happening to us no matter what way our politics lean. If you are a writer, it is already happening to some of your peers, and it only spreads. 

I have felt reticent about sending out this newsletter because how can I say, "hey, buy my book," when so many other people are suffering so badly, or about to be? How can I send out links to online content that is not about preserving civil liberties or stemming the tide of hate? I know, art matters. Books matter. These things still matter. But how do we keep the small things going without normalizing the big things that are threatening them? How do writers work, now? And how can writers still ask to be paid for our work, when our work itself must now by definition be an act of resistance.

These questions are only going to get more complicated in coming years. But luckily, history exists, so we kind of know how this whole thing might go. We know that in places where there are oppressive regimes they always come after the writers, usually writers are some of the first people they go after. And we know, now, that America is not an exception. You are not an exception. I am not an exception. In such situations, one way writers can get paid more easily is to justify the regime. So they're either coming for you, or you're going to be making some compromises. And if they’re not coming for you, you should maybe be worried about why. (Again, this applies to all kinds of writers, whether you write romance-in-space paperbacks or magazine profiles.) Right now, the work of writers is to think long and hard and actively about which side we want to be on, and take steps accordingly. And we should be educating ourselves and steeling ourselves, so that we can tell for ourselves which side is which, once things get complicated. Because it's not just about "who pays writers?" or how much or how fast. It’s why. And by whom. And as the money-and-writing "expert" in the room, I can tell you that a culture that doesn't value writing economically when things are going pretty well, will certainly not do so as it turns towards being a more repressive and embattled culture.

So, this is what I'm thinking about. I don't know how to reconcile blatant self-promotion with deep fear and righteous rebellion. That's not to say we should all start working for free because revolution. Go make your money. Support yourself and support others, especially those who need help. Just pay attention to what is happening, okay? Pay attention to what you are doing and what you become.

3. a thing about love
What I am doing right now: I'm promoting my book, and I'm thinking, and I'm being really, really nice to myself. I'm trying to be really, really nice to the people I know and the people I don't know who seem like they are hurting a lot. I'm lifting weights, because I am preparing to lay my body on the lines as well as my words. And I am allowing myself to take breaks when I need to. I suggest you do the same. Do what you need to do. Do what Maud Newton is doing and take small daily political actions, take Carrie Frye's advice if you are having trouble remembering how to write. Write letters. On paper. Read the letters of writers who have lived through some shit and come out the other side. Read books about history. Read poems about revolution. Retool your book-tour talking points to be a bit more political, or don't, i don't know, just ... don't stop working. Don't compromise. Tell the truth. Write it down. Repeat.

All of which is to say, my book is coming out, please buy it! And also please resist, and rise, and rise up. 

xo
-m.


linkage:
I had a nice, long conversation with freelancer Tatiana Walk-Morris about my long and winding career path, writers gettin' paid, and writers sharin' numbers: The Freelance Beat. 

Here's all the money David Rees made as a freelancer, year by year. 

"I basically stopped soliciting men; I just don’t need to." Editor Rob Spillman talks about how he achieved gender parity in Tin House, plus a lot of other fascinating topics, in this solid interview.

YA author Zan Romanoff has some smart things to say about writing for money on the internet. (Also, her tinyletter is rather lovely.)

Silvia Killingsworth looks very closely at the most successful print publication in existence, the Trader Joe's Fearless Flyer, signature specs and all.

Neko Case on growing up poor.

Masha Gessen on the complexities of collaborationism. 

After the Oakland fire, a teacher's advice to her students about the importance of making art in difficult times.

Zadie for prez. 

Langston.

 

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