A couple weeks ago, I was reading through Andy Hertzfeld’s anecdotes at FolkLore.org, about how he and his colleagues developed the original Macintosh. These stories brought me back, first to nostalgic times, then to a nostalgic purpose. I remembered all the reasons I first fell in love with software development, many of which are also true of my writing, and I finally understood what I would need in order to rediscover that lost love.

(He’s also collected these stories in paperback: Revolution in The Valley: The Insanely Great Story of How the Mac Was Made.)

The Macintosh was originally a tiny research project tucked away in a corner of Apple, still riding off the success of the Apple II home computer. The project was always up for being canceled, but the people working on it believed in it, and believed that it would change the world. They were bringing features years ahead of their time to a “low end,” common man’s computer, inventing new technology in the process.

I started a list:

If you want to understand why I think eBooks should be almost free, let me start by telling you a little story (first related by Peter Drucker in his classic Innovation and Entrepreneurship on pp. 33 ff.):

Some decades ago, the chairman of Macy’s became disturbed by a trend he saw in his industry. Most customers had come into his store to buy clothes, but more and more, people were buying appliances instead. He didn’t know how to stop the rampant sale of appliances.

“Why do you want to stop them?” Peter Drucker asked. “Are you losing money on them?”

No. In fact, appliances had a bigger profit margin than clothing did. Furthermore, shoplifters rarely stole appliances, like they stole clothes. And appliance buyers rarely returned their purchases, like clothes shoppers did. Appliances were a money maker.

Yet he still wanted to stop selling them.

I’m actually finding myself disagreeing with some of Leo’s points. For example:

This morning, after I dropped the Missus off at work, I headed down Washington Street toward Mishawum Road, where I needed to make a left turn in order to get to the highway.

Now, this particular intersection has two left-turn lanes. That is, if you want to make a left turn, you can either get into the left-most lane or into the one next to it. Or in other words… You can see what I mean in the picture below, from Google Maps.

As i approached the intersection, I noticed several cars lined up in the left-most turn lane. Meanwhile, the other turn lane was completely empty. And I thought, Let’s see… I could pull up behind all those cars in the left-most lane, or I could go to the front of the line by using the other lane. Hmm. Which should I do?

And I almost pulled up behind the line of cars at my left.

That’s what I did at my first job.

If you want to learn how to give good writing advice, the best thing you can do is to critique others’ work and to have your own work critiqued by other writers. That has nothing to do with getting published. And if you want someone to give you advice on how to tell a story, what matters most is (1) whether he has done enough research to know what he’s talking about, (2) whether he knows how to write (not how to get published), (3) whether you like his stories, and (4) whether he knows more about the art and craft than you do. These are the same kinds of questions you ask when you look for a consultant in any niche, not just storytelling.

Actually, I do have some minor publishing credits: articles, short stories, and such. This was years ago, and I haven’t tried to be published since. Part of the reason, I admit, is that I don’t like to get rejection letters. Who does? And I don’t believe rejection letters are a necessary evil, which I hope to clarify below. But there’s a much better reason. When I discovered that I had the chops to turn an editor’s eye, I ran the numbers, and I discovered that unless you’re Stephen King, there’s no money in being published. No good money, anyhow.

Now after years of research, I believe there is no use in being “published,” at least not for me. As I enter the next chapter in my saga as a self-published author, let me set down some of the thoughts that have inspired me and the risk I’m taking. And where I expect to go from here.

My story began with an email from said major blog network, an email that was obviously written by a lawyer.

This past week I rented one of the best films of the last decade. It’s not a film I usually would have watched. Despite its awards and nominations, the movie got a mediocre rating on IMDB. And there was nothing I read to make me think I would find it any different. But I remembered some old friends talking about it years ago, about how in the movie they put ground chili pepper in hot chocolate. (Tastes good, by the way.) And then I learned that this was how the Mayans used to make it. And I love chocolate, and I love chilies, and history intrigues me. And I figured, “What the hey?” But I was unaware of what I was getting myself into. This is one of those films you have to watch over and over again, each time gaining some new insight. Most surprising, and most painful, and most inspiring, as I watched the film, I found myself identifying more and more with Vianne, the main character, in a way I never expected.