There are a lot of people in the world, that I am aware of, that want to be big. They want it bad. Huge. The big time baby! They want it so bad, they say, that they can taste it.

They'll ride your coat tails. Man, they'll fucking steal your work if they can. There is desparation beyond description in some people for success. It's so bad that a get rich quick scheme can't get you rich quick enough.

They want the glory, but they're not willing to work for it.

I'm not tooting my own horn when I say this; I am not bragging or boasting. I am a published Author. No it's not Random House, or Putnam; It's not Penguin. It's only been around six years, but damn it, it's mine and I did it.

I didn't do it by stealing. Or riding coat tails; I didn't have any contacts, or any way to get my foot in the door. I had to do it myself. That meant making sacrifices. Like missing sleep. Sometimes for days. I don't mean just a little sleep, I literally mean days at a time. You work, you come home and write until you work again. I popped mini thins, drank my red bull, took my no doz... Man, I was a mess, but you know what? I wrote two novels, and published them, and I found the publisher, and they paid me for my work. I didn't pay some fucking self publishing press to help me commit career suicide.

If I want to fuck my career up, I'll do it myself you know? I'm not famous, no... not yet, and if I get there, to fame--I don't want it because it will bring me people who want to give me attention, or money--naturally I want money for working, but I want to tell my stories. I want people to hear them, and enjoy them. I want to make my mark. That's all.

I earned it.

I could not afford sleep, if I wanted to win; I could not afford to wait until tomorrow if I wanted to be the next great writer. I could not depend on friends, or family to help me; no one gave me a hand or a step.

So I have no pity for artists who say they cannot make it, when they refuse to sacrifice things for their art. My girl's father is an artist. He makes amazing photos that are too good to just post on some artist website, so instead he sells them. For incredible amounts of money.

He also didn't get there by sleeping.

I know a lot of you understand what I'm talking about; you slave over a canvas, or a piece of paper, or a word processor; you sculpt, or paint, or draw; you ink your heart out, instead of sleeping, or eating sometimes. You bleed, sweat, and cry your art, and you deserve recognition and success.

Art is a form of madness, a creativity that the sound mind cannot understand. It is, in my opininon, a form of communication that an artist can use to speak to other like minded in their community.

When I first got published, I didn't have a pen name yet. I was working at a Denny's off McKinley in Corona. I'd mentioned it to my Managers, just because I was proud of my accomplishment.

Man the manager mentioned it to a guest. She told her friend, and a few other guests overheard her. No sooner than it had happened, I had guests pitching ideas to me like it was my duty to write for them, or get them published. I am not even famous, but these people thought they saw a door and wanted in. These weren't people robbing themselves of sleep, or starving because they bought new clay to sculpt with instead of food; these were 9 - 5'ers, which is fine, who slept, and ate, and had gas for their cars all the time. They were looking for a free ride and it infuriated me.

Art requires a part of the creators soul. I don't think you can get the same element of art if some one else does it for you. For a photgrapher, it's the difference between catching a candid moment, and missing it... and trying to recreate that moment perfectly. It will never happen. You can't fake it.

You cannot fake true art, and to make it... sometimes sacrifices must be made.



James Edward Nolan