#10: Jewish Mark Twain, Again

There's now a program that supposedly can tell you whether your book will sell. Apparently, it is pretty accurate: 84%.

Of course, the catch is, just because a book will sell doesn't mean it will be in the canon a hundred--even fifty years from now. Which brings me back to the issue I referred to in the last post: would an artist/writer prefer fame (however temporary) during her lifetime, or is she content with the slim chance of passing the test of time?

I'll admit, I lean towards the former at times--many times, if I'm honest with myself. Who doesn't want to be on a NYT best-seller list? Who doesn't want to be raved over by Oprah (other than He Who Shall Not Be Named)? Who doesn't want a line of people outside a Barnes & Noble on a hot summer day?

Of course, the ideal is is if you could have it both ways: both current and future fame. Mark Twain has both. Jewish Mark Twain isn't.

"I can't worry about my place in the library," John said in "Roderick on the Line." He just has to sit and create so he can finish one project and start another. I guess I need to take his lead.

#9.5: Jewish Mark Twain

I only intended to listen to "Roderick on the Line" as I washed the dishes, but ended up listening to the entire episode--damn podcast. Once again, John and Merlin spoke to my deepest fears in a comical way. After the dishes were done, I sat on the futon, intending to snap the podcast off and focus on my goal for the day (which is yet to be finished), but I began taking notes instead. They are as follows:

John looking for an assistant to esquire internet to question about if one will be the primary creator (like Shalom Aleichem the Jewish Mark Twain)

“I can’t worry about my place in the library.”

Chinese assistant will “put it on the stack.”

Mac turned us from chopping wood to geniuses to drones on the boxes and wanting to chop wood

I could clarify those notes, but I won't. I hope you listen instead. What caught me, as it catches anyone at some time or another, is the question about whether your work will survive centuries, or will be forgotten. More later.