From Youngblood Hawke, the '60s movie at least, starring James Franciscus, seems an appropriate word for the sea of offerings to the world by writers seeking recognition, much like a fish trying to stand out in the ocean. Before P.O.D. and emedia the throngs rushed agents and editors like refugees. Now "authors'" numbers have grown exponentially via self-pubbing and their situations still haven't changed regarding acceptance by the established industry and its distribution powers. So the more things change, as the saying goes, the more they remain the same. Sure, a few have managed to jump the fence into greener pastures, but they're the exceptions and not the rule, never will be. If you dismiss the "authors" who're simply not good writers and who're not marketable, and consider only the good and competent, you've still never advanced a bit. There are just too many writers, even good ones, in the marketplace. The old saying about a good book will always find a home is a bunch of crap, unless that home belongs to the author.

So writers keep doing what writers do, they just write. And dream. And write some more. And we're in a free market capitalist society. Imagine how it must be for someone in a socialist or dictatorial state. All things considered, we have no right to complain.

I guess.

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