I COULD NOT BELIEVE THE NEW YORK TIMES PRINTED A VERY COGENT PIECE BY PAMELA PAUL WHO HAS FIRED A SHOT ACROSS THE BOW, AND IT HAS NOT GONE UNNOTICED

That cannon ball is actually a defence of the status quo in publishing – traditional publishing – where six writers in the hemisphere actually make a living at what they do. Without movie rights, I might as well live like a bug. This time, I am with traditional publishing. There are many reasons why. The traditional publishers know who they are. They invest in individuals. They’re arrogant, but they already know that. And that. And that. And that.

I am shocked. That this was published. It’s a great piece of writing and a shot across the bow. It was not intended as a shot across anything. Identity. This piece has already set off the identity fireworks. Identity. Fireworks are business. Book publishing is this cultural attache, pretense of “The Other Reality,” and it’s carnivorous. The reader does not see behind the curtain. Writer manifesto: Take No Prisoners. I have seen famous writers leave spitting reviews on Amazon. Identity is war. Identity is death. Identity is being rendered hollowed out and cold. There is no sneaking behind the lines. Two of my books have been reviewed by the New York Times. One was by an instructor at a major university, a rave, I could only shrug because I didn’t understand a word he said. Identity. I have The Word The spies. I’m guarded. One of his students went after me. Gotcha. By then, I’m weary of this pornographic cartoon. The social media thought police are embedded in journalism’s hot-box bunker. Truth? Wikipedia swears I was raised a rich spoiled brat. We were dirt poor. Book launches have two days. Fate will be distilled. Careful. What you wish for. Suddenly, students from this university keep popping up, too. Only in that I could feel the breathing. Neck. My family tells tales about how a journalist called for dirties. Always rock and roll. What is true and what is true is the heavy lifting of the thought police armed with hammers. Many editors, themselves, are hammers. Identity.