Everybody gave up on me. Seriously, for how long would you wait for me to finish a book? Any book! Five, ten, twenty years? I am the only one who keeps the hope. I keep writing and I have more porjects to complete than ever!
You have to be nuts in this business. You have to be senseless. Even stupid of sorts. You have to an idiot to do it for that long time!
I do it every day, the writing. For hours, long hours. I don't have time for anything else. Not even for reading books or editing what I write.
Why? I ask.
I just don't have it. I have too many thoughts to write down.
Twice I mailed out two dozens of big envilopes -- first time with my "novel" DEM (two chapters and an outline) and the second time with the play "The Story of David Z." (fifteen and three years ago). I am not sending anything anymore. I simply type everything online (as I do now) and click on "save"! I know it's not real publishing -- but I am not doing the real writing!
Real writers WORK on their texts; they think about what they want to write, the research, the have drafts. I am a webwriter. I talk by typing.
Tolstoy, they say, rewrote the same text 13 times (War and Peace), I write the same text 13 different ways.
Not only I can't finish this book "Father-Russia" I know that I won't finish it ever! Instead of working on what is already written, I am writing this text right now, because I want "Father-Russia" to be web-bound. I want to say what wasn't said.
"I done it all. Nothing can't changed! Not even a coma!"
I marvel over such statements since I remember myself. I cut Shakespeare and Chekhov, when I direct. There are some not-so-good parts in many masterpieces, sorry to say. Also, there are places which are "under-written"... Okay, I will stick with the self-criticism.
I started this book 25 years ago under the title "Real Socialism" (1975). In fact, I wrote it (in Russian). I typed and retyped the damn thing so many times and even brought it in the cigarett packages ricking my life while defecting! I "worked" on it in New York... I don't know where the script is.
The point I try to make is simple. I need to do it. To write. It would be nice, if what I write would be publish -- and even better if I could get paid, but I need to do it so bad, so I will continue to write even I have to paid for it. Even if I have to suffer and pay with my life. (Sounds very heroic).
Maybe I wrote it somewhere before, but I can repeat myself -- I am not hiding anything, it's right here! I can see it, you can see -- and if someone want to print it -- go ahead!
Now, to be lealistic. Would I publish my own books?
The answer is no.
I didn't do, I am not doing it -- because I don't think I can make money selling my books.
Look, in Shakespeare and Chekhov there is beginning and end (even Beckett has it), but "Father-Russia" has no beginning and end! Could cut this chapter and add another other? Sure! Why not! The more the merrier! What kind of "product" is that? When you buy something you say give me pound of the Swiss cheese, for example. Or, at least, give me a half a poud of this or that, right? What is this "Father-Russia"? Not a cheese and nothing Swiss about it -- and how big is it?
So, where to you put it? On which shelf and which section? How do you advertise it? "This week our special discount"... of what? I can hear costumers talking. "What is that over there? Something new, I guess." "Did you try it? Interesting flavor, dear."
Now, try to buy it. Try to eat it all...
You see what I mean?
It's only good to taste and to look at.
And that is what you are doing.
Oh, no! I am not making fun of you. I try to explain the situation. You see, I myself would like it, if after ordering a steak, they would bring in a cow to my table -- here you are, eat it!
I'm sorry, I thought I can give my insight on the situation with my writing of talking.
I'm sorry that I can't give up on my writing. I can't. I am this cow.