The End of Publishing

I’ve told the story before and it’s true: One of my favorite professors at university announced to his class of aspiring young writers that Moby Dick is a novel; all the rest are just entertainments. While I agree with the sentiment of this, I might substitute Madame Bovary for the great white whale.

Yet there’s still a problem. Let’s face it, with few exceptions. all the rest are not really entertaining.

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It’s Fiction!

Imagine reading a story about a young couple who travel from Boston to Albany, stopping along the way to feed the horses and bed down under the stars. It’s 1820 and the trip is expected to take at least a week. Now imagine a modern reader who complains that the couple should have driven a car so that the trip would only be a fewhours long.

Ridiculous?

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