I'll Throw You Five
I recall a time where asking a favor and tacking on, “I'll throw you five bucks,” would almost guarantee the assistance you so desire. Almost a phrase you'd label magic, like a poignantly placed please or thank you. If you needed one final push to secure the help you so desperately require: Honest Abe to the fucking rescue.
No longer. Five won't earn you dick. Literally. Not even a dick pic.
So, ask for ten. Inflation. No big deal. Pump up the offer.
But that got me to thinking about the time spent agonizing over the price point of my book. 14.99 for a paperback, I scoffed? Too high. But pricing it any less than 12.99 and I'd be paying them to print the book. I'd say this is due to the length, which technically that's true, but this entire conundrum existed – in my easily distracted mind – because of how little moetary value is assigned to art. Anyone asshole off the street will remind you art is subjective. Another will passionately declare we, as a society, require art to thrive. Neither one of those people is likely going to pay for a transformative piece of work in anything, but they'll shower you with hollow phrases and empty wisdom. Words. 'Cause, I mean, you write; so thats the most important concept out there. You're a word fucker, right? You're obsessed. They mean everything. More than money.
Yeah. Yeah, they do. Money is fleeting as fuck, but I still need it to keep my phone connected. To pay for power to charge it. Keep the internet running, enabling this post. Etc. Etc. More words.
So, why is it that society indoctrinates devaluing art? That this is what I do – this great beautiful, enviable thing – but it's not a “real job.” That I require an additional “day job” unless I'm in the top two percent of authors?
Fuck that noise.
Yes, I want you to read my work, but that's precisely what it is – this is my work. My God damned job. I'm a writer, and I'm going to make a living at it.
Considering I'm still alive, I technically am “making a living” at it, in the loosest terms possible. How about that shit?
Humbling, to say the least, but I still don't have a spare five spot to offer next time a favor's on my lips. Let's face it, even ten isn't likely to get me far.
So how about I ask you for $14.99 in exchange for my novel? It's not even a favor, it's a straight-up tranaction. 'Cause this is my job.
Love Always Haley -3:45 PM, March 21st, 2021