One in a Billion



I am one in a billion.  I am a writer.

My voice is stifled behind a cacophony of pleas:

“Hear me!  No, hear me!  I have something to say!”

We all feel we deserve a piece of the publishing pie,

to be seen, read, heard, felt.

But we are victims of whims, notions, flippancy,

fair-weather audiences, sprees and fads.

You agonize over your space opera for a year,

Only to find out they aren’t hot anymore.

It’s now zombie-killing cowboys by day, drag queens by night.

What’s a writer to do?

Maybe you hope an understanding agent will see the merit in your past-its-prime story.

Maybe you trash it and start over, choosing a more classic theme.

A select few will be the one writing the first zombie cowboy, drag queen saga,

killing it on the bestseller lists.



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