A couple weeks ago I had the delightful experience of doing my taxes. It was extra exciting this year, because most of my money came from writery stuff. That means for the most part, I’m self-employed.
I’ve always thought “self-employed” had a nice ring to it. It’s sort of Firefly-esque. Wear a gun, take jobs as they come, and never be under the heel of nobody ever again….
But then I found out that if you’re self employed, you get to pay super double-fun bonus taxes. Because, apparently, the government hates you.
Up until this year, I’ve always gotten money back because I’ve lived well below the poverty line. This year, I got to give them money. It was, as they say, more fun than getting kicked in the throat. Mostly.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against taxes. Everyone loves to bitch about them, but taxes pay for schools, and roads, and snowplows, and sewage treatment plants. My friends have a son who is autistic, and the government helps them by bringing in well-trained people.
These things are important. If that’s all my taxes went toward, I would pay them gladly. I would sing a song while writing out the check.
However, we all know that’s not the case.
So, under the advice of several wise people, I’ve decided to start a corporation. This is supposed to prevent the government from taking quite as big a bite out of my ass for next year’s taxes.
It doesn’t seem right, honestly. The corporation is just me: I own it. And this corporation (let’s call it Me-corp) will be employing me. That, apparently, is different from being actually self-employed. Sorry? What? How does that work?
I guess what it comes down to is that the government is really, really dumb. Dumb enough so that if I put on sock on one of my hands and use it as a puppet, it will be convinced that the puppet is actually paying the taxes, not me.
But I’m not above exploiting a loophole in the system. So all that remains is to figure out what to call this corporation. I having trouble picking a name. Names are important things, you know. They tell you a great deal about a… a corporation.
So far, the only names that I can come up with are goofy ones, like Puppet-Co. Because the thought of owning a corporation is just silly to me, I keep thinking of cheesy names and slogans. Things like:
Rothco: Our Future is Your Tomorrow….
The Badassery: Crushing Your Hopes and Dreams Since 1998
Another part of me wants to just geek out and name the corporation after something in my book. I could call it “Elodin Enterprises” Or “The Valaritas Consortium.”
If y’all have any clever ideas, please feel free to list them below….
Also of note:
- Today my book is going to be listed in the New York Times print edition at #11. It’s probably not such a big deal for you, but I’ve been excited to see it….
- I’ve been really surprised by the response I’ve had to The Contest. I’ve already received over a hundred entries, and decided to push back the deadline because some people heard about it late and asked for more time. New deadline is May 4th. Clever readers will realize that this opens up the possibility of taking pictures on Beltane…. I’m just sayin’.
Later all,
pat
Beta Readers: Part II
First, a few excerpts from the many, many messages I’ve received recently.
People have given many credentials and uttered many a plaintive plea. There have even been blatant attempts at bribery. People have offered me cash, computers, and promises of their undying love. About the only thing people didn’t offer is livestock and sexually explicit pictures of themselves.
I should have seen it coming, but honestly, I didn’t.
I know a lot of people would love to help me out by giving a beta read…
Wait, that’s not entirely true, is it?
What I meant to say is that a lot of people would love to read an early copy of the book, and, largely by coincidence, help me out with a beta read.
But I just can’t feel good about it. ** [See edit below.]
Ultimately, this strikes at the heart of the issue.
Back when I was working on The Name of the Wind, I would give a copy of the book to anyone who even hinted they wanted to read it.
Getting other people’s feedback on the book is a key element of my revision process. You see, I’ve read this book so many times in so many versions, that I need an external view of it. A triangulation point, if you will…
But these days, I can’t just hand it out all higgledy piggledy. Things are more complicated. These days I have to worry about people leaking early, crappy versions of the book onto the net months before the pub date.
I know, deep in my heart of hearts, that most people would never dream of doing such a thing. But all it takes is one jackass….
And yeah, I have a non-disclosure form. Everyone signs it before they get the book. Even Sarah signed it.
It’s a vicious fucking thing that goes something like this:
It goes on like that for some time. It is so terrifying that one of my friends said he didn’t feel comfortable leaving the house with his copy of the book.
But really, the non-disclosure form isn’t going to help. If the book gets leaked, I’ll be pissed forever, and suing some daft bastard into the ground won’t fix that.
Ultimately, yeah. At this point it is. I have to know you personally, so I can trust you. It’s also important for me to know you because that helps me put your comments in context.
The other problem is that for me to really get the most out of a beta reader, I like to be able to sit down with them over coffee and chat about the book. I like to be able to leaf through the manuscript, ask them questions about their comments, and pick their brains about certain key issues. And seeing how most of you don’t live here in Stevens Point, that’s kinda hard.
So this blog is to say thanks to everyone who offered to help. I’d love to be able to take you up on your offers, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.
More soon,
pat
** Edit – May 18th
When I looked at the comments today, I was surprised to see people offering hugs of consolation, and giving me support, and telling me not to let the messages get me down.
This was kind of a surprise to me, as the messages I got from people asking to be beta readers were, by and large, lovely, considerate, flattering things.
So I re-read the blog and found the problem. It’s the following line:
“But I just can’t feel good about it.”
What we have here is a classic case of unspecific pronoun. It seems like I’m saying that I can’t feel good about all the people asking to read book two. But that’s not the case. I’m cool with that. As I’ve said, it’s really rather flattering, and I wish I could take people up on their offers. Because, as I’ve said, I love feedback.
That sentence should read, “But I just can’t feel good about handing out copies of book two to strangers.”
This, my friends, is why I do a lot of revisions. One misused pronoun and the entire emphasis of a piece of writing gets fucked up.
Just wanted to clarify.
Love,
pat