My Style is not to have it.
Wagwaan, Earthlings.
A lit agent hit me up recently with this politely corporate rejection arc:
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"You have an ultra-strong voice. Like, a real megaphone. There's truth and power in your writing... but it's not really suitable for the shelves of Barnes & Noble."
(Author's note: I have no fucking clue what Barnes & Noble actually is, but I assume it's the Vatican of bookshelves in the US.)
Anyway, he goes on:
"When I first messaged you, I was excited. But later, I realized... you're too indie. Too avant-garde. So, I'll pass."
Translation?
Dead time.
Let me decode it.
The world has mutated beyond recognition. Even the porn industry — the true futurists, lol — is now shooting vertical short-format vids because they get that all these post-boomer generations (Gen Z, Alpha, Beta, Omega — whatever Greek letters we're on) consume content like gremlins in a neural blender.
Meanwhile, old-school agents are still stuck in the Twilight/Vampire Diaries dimension or pushing "How to Heal from Toxic Relationships with a Taxidermist" type of self-help.
But yo — the Universe has moved on. It's all about digital assimilation now. Either you jack in with critical thinking implants, or you get lobotomized by algorithmic sludge.
And the big plot twist?
Thinking itself has evolved.
Not like "read-a-book-in-the-park" evolved — I mean "my-brain-is-an-API-plug" evolved.
Bookshelves?
Relics.
BookStores? A shrine for suburban book clubs and Massachusetts stay-at-home moms bingeing inspirational memoirs with pastel covers.
But here's the kicker — the weird shit I write?
That stuff could get read by someone like Elon Musk or Richard Branson. And their audience?
Slightly bigger than the entire Massachusetts book club economy combined (no offense to those lovely people — shoutout to remote-working moms and the Commonwealth).
Because when a post-Zoomer Elon Musk (relatively speaking) something and vibes with it?
Boom — it becomes a trend.
And then?
The whole of TikTok Army, some semi-literate beaver building a dam, and even your mom (possibly from MA, possibly not) start riding the wave.
Trends aren't born on bookshelves anymore.
They're brewed in digital chaos, in memes, in stray thoughts, in cosmic brainfarts.
And you know what?
The more bullshit — the better.
Because at least it's not boring.