Barney Max, Your Average Middle-Class Superhero
It took a little more than one and a half years, but now I can proudly state, the birth of Barney Max is a fact. He's out there. And you can read about him in my new sci-fi adventure novel, Your Call Is Important To Us. Over the next few days, the Kindle price will be $0.99.
Personally, I like Barney Max. When I was working on the novel, I wanted you to like him, too. He's naive and somewhat passive-aggressive, but those are faults many of us share. He's also prone to dangerous bouts of optimism - which is what carries him so far as he wrestles with a strange and entirely unwelcome predicament.
Until a few days ago, Barney Max was entirely mine. Now he is out there in the world, and other people will experience what happens to him - and how he chooses to react - in their own way.
Because that's how the writer/reader relationship works. Readers don't need to hear from the writer what he or she intended. It doesn't matter. You - the reader - will have a unique relationship with the story as well as its characters. No one's presumptions or dictates - not even the author's - can (or should) interfere. To presume otherwise cheapens the value of the inspiration that touched the author in the first place.
I feel like I'm standing in the doorway and watching a child's back as he leaves the house with all his belongings to strike out on his own. I am no longer in control. He's a big boy now, and he's got to make his own choices.
Still, I'm proud of him. I'm sure he's going to meet some interesting people. As for my own gentle wistfulness, I know the ache will eventually give way to a new beginning, and the hand of inspiration will touch off a new and equally wonderful orgy of creative activity.
Goodbye, Barney Max! Enjoy your time in the world. It was a pleasure getting to know you.
Personally, I like Barney Max. When I was working on the novel, I wanted you to like him, too. He's naive and somewhat passive-aggressive, but those are faults many of us share. He's also prone to dangerous bouts of optimism - which is what carries him so far as he wrestles with a strange and entirely unwelcome predicament.
Until a few days ago, Barney Max was entirely mine. Now he is out there in the world, and other people will experience what happens to him - and how he chooses to react - in their own way.
Because that's how the writer/reader relationship works. Readers don't need to hear from the writer what he or she intended. It doesn't matter. You - the reader - will have a unique relationship with the story as well as its characters. No one's presumptions or dictates - not even the author's - can (or should) interfere. To presume otherwise cheapens the value of the inspiration that touched the author in the first place.
I feel like I'm standing in the doorway and watching a child's back as he leaves the house with all his belongings to strike out on his own. I am no longer in control. He's a big boy now, and he's got to make his own choices.
Still, I'm proud of him. I'm sure he's going to meet some interesting people. As for my own gentle wistfulness, I know the ache will eventually give way to a new beginning, and the hand of inspiration will touch off a new and equally wonderful orgy of creative activity.
Goodbye, Barney Max! Enjoy your time in the world. It was a pleasure getting to know you.
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