About WrETCHeD

Kafka gave all his unpublished work to his friend (and possible lover) Max Brod, telling him to burn it after he died. He could have burned it himself. Or he could have left that request to a lawyer. Instead, Kafka gave it to the one person he knew would protect and preserve his work while still getting to act like he didn’t have the ego to care about publication.

I guess you could say a Medium for a writer who’s not sure if he wants to write anymore has the same obnoxious energy. It’s a fair criticism. Although, I’ve made a few hundred thousand dollars writing over my life it has never been my full time job, and I no longer get any thrill from matching my voice to publications as a challenge. I don’t care. I’m also fairly disgusted by publishing in general which is largely inhabited by comfortable people who are as steadfastly dedicated to appearing progressive as they are to maintaining the status quo. I’m not sure I have anything to say that such people would want to hear.

It’s why I haven’t revised my leftist novel for all of 2020. And it’s why this lack of self-awareness was so integral to the efforts which got several of my earlier novels published. So yeah, a Medium for a guy who doesn’t know he wants to write anymore is kind of absurd, but I don’t have a Max Brod to give my stuff to. Besides, maybe you’re not sure you want to read anymore, either.

For anyone who might want whatever comes, it’s here for you. And, in truth, it’s here for me too.