My agent wishes I would be monogamous, asks me to choose the one writing bed I will sleep in. ....I am too hard to market sprawled all over the writing landscape, says devorah major in an article about multi-genre writers.

This is a harsh reality that most of us are faced with. It forces us to reexamine the true objective of our writing, is it to garner fame and fortune, or rather to exercise the ultimate freedom of self-expression. To achieve optimal marketability our work will be judged, categorized and corseted regardless of our artistic sensitivities, a price that must be paid to -uhhh- get paid.

As a creator of unique virtual landscapes-of-the-mind to be explored by my readership, I find myself wildly oscillating among the established genres. There is an arbitrary fluidity to my writing that defies categorization. Scenarios and fictional protagonists just come into being via my penning them down in whatever form they themselves dictate, be it a poem, a short story or an indefinable amalgam of literary styles and shapes.
Every fiber of my being rebels against conforming to hard-core criteria of marketability. As a consequence my wallet and my larder are chronically depleted. But, so be it. It is a choice I had to make.

I have learned long ago that my existentialist needs will never be met by my writing alone. And so I resort to other, more mundane means to assure my survival, while I stubbornly refuse to have my creative work willfully twisted and molded into product. And so it is that to this day, for better or for worse, I have managed modestly on my own, without seeking the "benefit" of an agent, bent on compartmentalizing my work.

 Accipe hoc!

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