Michael McGrinder

In writing and publishing my memoir of early Off Off-Broadway, One Hell of a Past, I expect I will have completed my major opus. It does not mean that, even at 87, I am done with writing. I am not. Whatever time is yet to be mine, I would like to spend productively, preferably writing, which is my first love. And yet, a dilemma presents itself. I have written , at times quite prolifically, since I was 19. A fraction of that work is published, although I now have ten titles available on Amazon, eleven as soon as I complete republication of Heathen Piper which should be soon. (Something somewhere is laughing at me. I think it’s in my head and I think I agree with it .) I have grown fairly adept at self-publishing, but I don’t kid myself. Even the simplest of publications eats up more time than one expects. Time spent publishing diminishes time left for writing. Still, it must be done. Else why have I written so much? My best answer is that I have written to be read. (It’s really deeper than that. Of course it is; otherwise it would be a shallow life. I’ll resist the temptation to delve into that here.) The independent publishing revolution has been a godsend to writers like myself. It is as welcome and as necessary as was the Off Off-Broadway revolution in the 60s. Traditional publishing has shrunk to a skeleton of itself, represented now by just a few major publishers, none of whom will look at unpublished work unless submitted through an agent. Agents themselves are reluctant to read work by little known or unknown writes. The small press world has also taken a serious hit with the sudden closing of its major distributor. Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Ingram Sparks, and draft-to- digital (Smashwords) etc. may be validly criticized in many areas, but they do provide writers with a free or minimally-priced platform, and are to be celebrated for that . The era of being special for having been “chosen” is in its decline. I’d be a damn fool not to avail myself of the publishing opportunities available to me, and I do, but I still want to write. I don’t feel whole without it. The writing itself comes with a dilemma of its own. Every writer loves starting something new, just as we all know how important, even vital, it is to finish the work we have already started and spent time on. I have, in various stages of chaos or near- completion a few stories, some essays, poems, and even an almost half completed serious novel, not to mention a completed crime fiction novel in serious need of editing, all sitting on my computer or on thumb drives, as well as in boxes and shopping bags. I also have a series of personal essays I would like to write and another of short memoir pieces.. And I dearly want to explore writing some new poems in depth. Life can only be lived one day at a time, and anything I write or rework takes away time to write something else. My antiquated eyes are yet another issue. So, with time at an expiring premium, procrastinator that I am, I have written this. © Michael McGrinder 2024