Write and Wrong

So I still haven't heard from the editor of the local gay paper about the email I sent. I guess that's ambiguous. Perhaps he was on vacation, and is just now slogging through the hundreds of emails in his Inbox. It doesn't seem likely to me that he would not respond at all.

But this means that I have to take The Next Logical Step and give him a call. I am dreading that. Totally. Absolutely.

What exactly am I dreading?

I guess, I call, and ask if he got my email and had a chance to read it over. And there's this pause. Silence on the phone lines. Lasting a few seconds but going on forever in my head. "Yeah, I did..." comes the reply. And then it's kinda over. Just the 'letting me down easy' part, uncomfortable for both of us.

And then? Well, then I'll send the same email to the editor of the other gay paper in town. See if that flies. Actually I might have a better chance at the other gay paper.

In the current issue, the Interloper's first column appears. And it's not bad for a first effort. I could snipe that about a quarter of it is discussing things happening in San Francisco, but he probably needed copy, and as far as covering the 'leather and porn scene in New York City,' well, there's not a lot going on as far as I'm aware. Well, there is. There's a lot. There's no mention of GMSMA or TES or LSM. But hopefully, in time, he'll get his act together there.

And I think that I'm a better writer than he is. But that's not the point. He has bigger biceps and he's a porn star. Alas. I'll match my hit counter against his hit counter anyday. Thanks to you, dear readers. Seeing those numbers goes up really sustains me. I don't doubt that there are people out there who want to read what I write, because there are apparently about 70 people a day that want to read what I write. Not huge, but significant as far as I'm concerned.

Thanks for that.

---