I have been an amateur writer for about 20 years now. I’m 45. And for almost everyday of those 20 years I have fallen asleep to my book signings, movie debuts, and of course my Oscars for my adaptation of my best-selling novels. Occasionally I’d dream about Hawaii or being a billionaire, but famous fiction writer was my favorite. I noticed the other night that I do not do that anymore. I don’t close my eyes and want to see me lecturing at a University anymore; wowing MFAs with hilarious stories of my life as a best-selling author.
I don’t want to think about that anymore, because it’s not going to happen. I’m going to publish my book. I'm working on a Press Release and bulding a Web site right now. And if I’m lucky I’ll make sme good money (yay). But I just don’t see the point of dreaming about multi-city book signings anymore when there are better thing to dream about, like white shark diving and being a Ninja warrior.
I’m still in shock at how all the literary agents from NYC have refused to represent my book, Confessions of an Internet Pornographer. You’d think that with a title like that it would be an easy sell. Oh sure they said it was well written, had a lot of heart and was very funny. But it lacks the sophistication, the complexity of a best seller, it must. I am also standing on a literary milk carton not a platform. I now know what it takes to be a proffessional writer an I’m beginning to doubt if I want to work this hard and risk so much disapoinment anymore. Fairies don’t exist and wishes on stars don’t come true. I’ve been writing this book for 9 years and it has been like pushing a stone up a hill. A big fat, heavy-ass stone. Why should I want to dream of that?
I was working on a great story entitled The Witch of the Cross Bronx Expressway. But I there’s better things to do. I also thought of a cool story (in a literary fiction kind of way) about a young girl who is constantly in and out of the hospital. I could explore her life and how a person falls in love when they’re in and out of the hospital alot. But I’m playing Crisis 2 on the PlayStation 2. It’s awesome! Imagine playing Modern Warfare 2 but you can become invisible!
I’m also watching much more TV. That’s right, I said it. I’d rather watch TV than write! Why not? Writing leads to disappointment, and reality, and eye opening sadness. The TV has never let me down. In the big blue ocean of life, the TV is my dive buddy.
I plan to keep ignoring the mental scenes I'm seeing from my next novel I call Mr. Nurse. A book about being a reluctant male nurse in an intense female profession. I don’t want to think about a novel that may never exist.
Maybe if I get published in Glimmer Train magazine I’ll feel better. By the way, here’s a look at a draft of my Press Release. What do you think?
Love,
Lucho
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Bronx taxi driver makes millions in online porn!
In the novel entitled Confessions of an Internet Pornographer, written by debut author Lucho Salazar. Available at Amazon .com September 29, 2011.
September 29, 2011 – The book tells the tales of one family’s crazy adventures while running a XXX voyeur Web site, named Fantasiesonline.com. It was place dedicated to the secret romantic, risqué, and XXX fantasies of its members. It is the story of how a cop, a cab driver, and two housewives transformed themselves into XXX online millionaires. The author is the former creator and Webmaster of Fantasiesonline.com, and the book was inspired by real events.
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Available September 2011, in paperback and e-book, on Amazon.com
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