The Blurb

I haven’t updated the blog for two reasons. First, I’ve been busy raising kids. We currently have three, no older than four and no younger than five months. I don’t get a lot of time to write. Second, when I do get that time, I spend it writing fiction. I’ve quit going to writing groups, don’t spend much time reading, don’t browse the Internet for writing or marketing articles. I just write. Even then, it’s slow going. I have been working on two separate short stories since about February. It is now July, but we’re getting close to finishing. Now it is time to write The Blurb.

A lot of writers hate The Blurb. It’s not like writing a story; it’s a tiny genre unto itself. It’s not a narrative, it’s an advertisement, and it needs to show genre, target audience, a hint of the prose inside, and perhaps a  suggestion of the plot. However, it can't contain spoilers, and it has to spike intrigue in the space of two to five sentences. Worse, it’s asking you to attempt to pack all of the awesomeness of the project you have been bleeding into for the past however long, all into a handful of words. That project has taken time, it’s taken headaches, it’s taken research and getting lost on bunny trails and real emotional angst as we agonized over the fates of our beloveds. It deserves more than a handful of words. And to top it all off, it just feels cheap. Blurbs are the barkers in a crowded, chaotic midway, begging the masses to take a look, maybe drop a few bucks at their own booth. It’s not dignified. It shouldn’t be necessary.

For all of these reasons, most authors sneer at The Blurb. We talk about spectacular opening sentences and character building and plotting and all that other fine stuff, while The Blurb gets relegated to the backseat as the chore, the dreaded requirement, one of the arduous and humiliating prices we pay for producing art.

But not me.

In all seriousness, I'm a little excited about The Blurb. One reason is HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS I’M PUBLISHING A STORY! After all the hours and the money and the conferences, and all the times I said “I’m a writer” and felt like a fraud because I haven’t actually published anything, I’m actually publishing my story. No, better than that; somebody else is publishing my story. I’m embracing all the annoying accoutrements of writing because they are rites of passage. I am legitimized. I get to write The Blurb. A second reason is, I am a writer. I can write anything. You want a story about a scavengers in steam powered trucks salvaging the copper wiring and pipes from abandoned homes and businesses in a post apocalyptic wasteland? Done. You want a story about multi eyed puppet master aliens backstabbing their way into political prominence using a chess/video game hybrid employing elves, humans, and cat people as their pieces? Done. You want blurbs for those? Son, you came to the right place.

See what I did there? And I’ll do it again, I don’t care. I’ll rephrase it, spin it, wrap it up in a nice bow and sell it to your grandma; if the goal is to sell a story using words on a page, I won’t stop trying until I get it done. Because I am that good.