“One gets tired of the role critics are supposed to have in this culture: It's like being the piano player in a whorehouse; you don't have any control over the action going on upstairs.” - Robert Hughes, author and critic
By way of explanation, cracking the shits is the Aussie equivalent of taking your bat and ball and going home.
One can handle only so much rejection from publishers who LOVE (!!) the book idea but can’t see their way to selling it because I’M NOT FAMOUS. (Well, duhhhh, of course I’m not famous. I’m busy having fun!!) Or because they see the market for it but it doesn’t fit their current list. Or because it’s kind of interesting but they’re not really interested themselves. Or because who do I think I am to imagine other parents want to take their kids travelling?!!
On the up side, I did read somewhere that every good writer gets a squillion rejections – even guys like Ernest Hemingway - so I suppose I'll press on.
Just not right now.
Because now I’m taking my proverbial bat and ball and getting on a plane with Doog and the girls to the far north of Australia where I will dig my toes into the red earth, camp under the stars (hopefully not too close to the crocs) and then fly to Queensland to see a whole lotta colour on the Great Barrier Reef and drink a whole lotta colourful drinks whilst lounging around in a hammock. No computer access = no new rejection letters to read. Yeah!
I'll be back online in three or four weeks... until then, thanks for logging on.
By way of explanation, cracking the shits is the Aussie equivalent of taking your bat and ball and going home.
One can handle only so much rejection from publishers who LOVE (!!) the book idea but can’t see their way to selling it because I’M NOT FAMOUS. (Well, duhhhh, of course I’m not famous. I’m busy having fun!!) Or because they see the market for it but it doesn’t fit their current list. Or because it’s kind of interesting but they’re not really interested themselves. Or because who do I think I am to imagine other parents want to take their kids travelling?!!
On the up side, I did read somewhere that every good writer gets a squillion rejections – even guys like Ernest Hemingway - so I suppose I'll press on.
Just not right now.
Because now I’m taking my proverbial bat and ball and getting on a plane with Doog and the girls to the far north of Australia where I will dig my toes into the red earth, camp under the stars (hopefully not too close to the crocs) and then fly to Queensland to see a whole lotta colour on the Great Barrier Reef and drink a whole lotta colourful drinks whilst lounging around in a hammock. No computer access = no new rejection letters to read. Yeah!
I'll be back online in three or four weeks... until then, thanks for logging on.
