“Kindle Vella” is such a lame name that I have to keep checking to make sure it’s real. But Amazon is the 600 pound guerilla of 600 pound gorillas and they will make you scream, holmes. So what we have here is an attempt to communicate.
I’ve been writing stuff for years and wondering what to do with it, and wondering if I’d ever learn anything about how stories are actually “put together” and how some guy in New York can write convincing stuff about cowpokes in Arizona.
And I’d like to announce that, just lately, I’ve either had a “breakthrough” or I’m feeling the effects of my new meds.
Could be a little a’ both…
For about six months, after the pandemic finally broke my will to live and reduced me to eating Cracker Jacks, I’ve been studying the craft of the money-making hack we all think of as a “professional writer.” I’m not talking about a crazy-ass alcoholic who dies and then is raised to the status of super genius by the academic/literary world. I’m talking about people who make a living writing stuff for the consumption of our fellow humans on the vast Manilla Bay Garbage Dump we call planet Earth.
And then, just as I was getting comfortable, lazing around, procrastinating as usual and dreaming of engaging in witty repartee with G.R.R. Martin (wait– the purple monkey wasn’t telling me to name my book “GRRR” — he was telling me to name MYSELF “GRR”! Curses!!) I discovered KINDLE VELLA and now I have to go off and do that for a while.
I’ll write letters to you and the kids. And keep sending the checks to Ma.