Sean Beaudoin

Enough excellent writing to fill a large tube sock

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From the Blog


It's All About Me, And It Always Was

So, I'm looking back over some old posts before they get slapped into the archive that will soon exist at the bottom of the page, and, as usual I'm chagrined about the percentage of baldly self promoting comments amongst the ones that are otherwise just dumb or nonsensical. It's funny, because I spent years writing alone in little apartments, cutting and pasting together xeroxed articles that I sent out by mail (this was before the internet) or slapped a title on and sold at hipster stores that carried fanzines. I never really told anyone but my friends and family about it, and I had a complete aversion to really even putting my name on it or trying to advertise in any way. Which explains the circulation. At some point though, probably about the time I realized my first book was only going to sell about half its advance, that if I was going to write for a living, I had to get my name and book cover out there. It's embarrassing to trumpet yourself, especially if you haven't really written anything truly trumpet-worthy, but if you don't manufacture or at least encourage an audience, then your book (and future advances) tends to disappear into the remainder bin with the 174,000 other titles published every year. It's an ugly reality. But not engaging in publisher-expected promotion is sort of like saying you want to be a doctor, but you refuse to dissect cadavers. The days of holing up like Salinger in some mountain lair and waiting for your genius to be discovered are long over. Especially with a billion pages of internet content to compete with. Except for a very lucky or exceptionally talented few, the most successful writers are those who are great at self-promotion. I guess there's a fine line somewhere between constant embarrassing narcissistic blather, and sort of just being like "Hey, everybody, look at this!" But I'm not sure I've found it yet.

I guess what I'm really trying to say is, please forgive me. I'm just doing what's dictated by The Man, and Consumer Society At Large. But I promise in future I'll try to talk more about crappy bands and Phillip K. Dick than about myself. And my new book DALTON REV that was just bought by Little, Brown last week and should be on the shelves, ready to be bought three at a time. I promise.


you, my wonderful friend, are forgiven

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"Actually, if you had a brain you’d be dangerous."

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