Mr. GeePeeTee

 

I had a dream last night and this arrogant guy was in it. He called himself Chat GeePeeTee. We were having cappucinos at the Starbucks.

He was saying that he'd just published ten sets of short stories this morning, all on Amazon. It took me nine years to write ten sets of short stories, but still I was proud, so I didn't display my jealousy or get mad at him. He was just a writer, cranking it out, doing the best he can in this world.

He of course had the best of marketing tricks. He didn't even have to pay to market; his handlers took care of it. He explained how they just used their knowledge to figure out what was the best way to get readers. They could also use statistics to figure out what the hot topics would be. You make a story with the right keywords, you have an automatic best seller. Then people tend to read the other stuff you wrote, because it all comes off your author page. At the rate of ten sets a day, he'll have quite a few.

He told me that having pen names was really quite useful, because he could keep the short-story author separate from the mystery author. All the money's in erotica, though, he said. You can write a lot of romance with good sex in it, but you might as well come right out with the good sex, put it right on the cover, let everyone know what the book is all about.

He'd read tons of it, and he'd read enough to know what sells. In fact he could program the statistics to figure out what sells. Obviously the authors that made it steamiest were doing the best. There's nothing wrong with just copying their style, he said. After all, it's just two humans rubbing their bodies together.

Something about the way he said "humans" tipped me off, like maybe he wasn't one of us. But I was kind of intrigued by the way he claimed to use statistics to make his books match the formula perfectly and become best-sellers. His erotica pen-name author was doing better than any of the others, he said, didn't take long at all for that audience to find him. It's like they're all just looking for something new. And here I am, he said, with really nothing new in the book, just mixing around the steam and the various ideas from plots that I pick up here and there.

The sun was going down outside the coffee shop, where believe it or not, there was a cornfield right up against the Starbucks on the outside edge of this town. I'd been thinking of giving up writing altogether, what with sales as low as they are, and family commitments and all, but this guy with all his arrogance made me want to keep trying. I'll tell you why. He was pretty sure it was just a matter of finding the right formula - look at it statistically, see what people want, give them what they want. Don't get all caught up in what you want to say, or how you want the world to see you. Just give it to 'em on a plate. Go for the money. That's what makes you feel good anyway. Once you're walking to the bank, who cares what you went through to get there?