I have self or partnership published two or three books, contributed to various anthologies and done various other writerly stuff, yet commercial gains are almost negligible. Perhaps I don’t write well or that my stories are not trendy enough. What could explain my failure as a writer? A talk with my author relationship managers at publishing houses has me convinced that they take great pains to reward their writers with a good product but if it doesnt work then who can we blame? Rightly so, or writerly woes? Keep track of sales, market your books, write about it in facebook pages and blogs, mention it to every next person you meet, give it out for reviews, as gifts, be seen in literary festivals, network, be part of clubs and academies that writers frequent, what else? Dance with my book at somebody’s wedding? I will even do that if I could have made my book sell one million copies and earned one million less half a million money out of it.So there:
“umpteenth, dumpteenth sell on this blog, empty dumping syndrome of a fall(from grace), all the publishers men and all the writers horses couldnt make this story sell even a copy after it was told”
Here you go(It is like selling the Taj Mahal):
BUY!! BUY!!! BUY!!! BEFORE IT GOES COLD!!!!
You want a sample taste? Ok…
AN EPITAPH ON LOVE
When love turns into a clouded dream,
Moon is pale, stars are dim,
Mars not male, Venus not feminine,
Life on earth is mere science, less magic;
When love doesn’t drizzle on mind,
Flowers bloom pretty only to wilt,
No hidden message of gloom in cuckoo’s trill
Nature is routine, not ruminative poetry;
When love is given to analysis,
Flesh acts in desired intent, not an offering
Eyes plain expressive, not burning lamps
Body is an abandoned ruin, not temple;
All love stories leave an epitaph on
A mound of memories of buried feelings
Deadened by years of intimacy
Resurrected by few words of dignity.
I will write one for mine when I am eighty.
I am preparing its grave and it is quite deep.