I'm Old and I Read What I Want

This is probably going to irritate some people, but I’m old, which means I don’t give a fuck.

 Last week Rob Hart posted in Substack a piece titled, “DUNGEON CRAWLER CARL, why TWILIGHT is good actually, and the importance of reading bestsellers.” Rob is a helluva writer and a friend of mine. It’s always a good idea to listen to what he has to say. One of the best and most useful bits of writing advice I ever received came from him at Left Coast Crime in 2025 when he suggested an edit from back to front of a novel. I’ve done that for a couple of books now and it works great. Rob’s rationale was that it avoids the fatigue that comes as the end approaches in any edit; I also found it helps me to fix things that were not adequately prepared, as I don’t have to go back looking for them. They’re still ahead of me.

 I have enormous respect for Rob as a writer and as a person. With that in mind, I can still say three things with certainty:

1.      I’m not going to read Dungeon Crawler Carl.

2.      What I know about Twilight means I’m not going to read any of those.

3.      I’m not slavering at the mouth to grab hold of the next bestseller.

 As Percy Garris (Strother Martin) said to Butch and Sundance, do you want to know why?

1.      I’m as close to 100 as I am to 40 and therefore officially old.

2.      I appreciate I have a finite amount of time remaining to read anything.

3.      I’ve been reading for over sixty years, and I know what I like.

4.      I’m not trying to build a career as a writer. That ship has not only sailed, it is beyond the horizon.

The first three are all that matter to me. I don’t want to hear what anyone thinks I should read or need to read; I already can’t keep up with what I want to read. I know I don’t want to read

1.      Books that mix sci-fi and fantasy with video game rules.

2.      Forbidden love (with monsters), eternal commitment (to monsters), a love triangle (with monsters), et cetera, et cetera (probably also involving monsters.) If I want to read about monsters, I have the Trump Administration.

3.      Bestsellers, with rare exceptions. I understand there is a skill, even a talent, in writing a bestseller, and that I lack it. I’m okay with that. The greatest musician this country has produced, Leonard Bernstein, once lamented his inability to write a hit popular song and admired those who could do so routinely. I find most bestsellers to be facile, strain credulity, and spend too much time on description and things I tend to skip. (Hat tip to Elmore Leonard.)

Which brings us to Number 4 on the second list above. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do what Rob suggests. If you’re trying to build a career, or even gain a foothold in the industry, these are things you should at least be aware of.

 I, on the other hand, have made a conscious decision to stop thinking about a career in any form. I have not changed the kinds of books I write and I’m not going to. I haven’t adapted how the books are written to maybe make them more popular, and I’m not going to. I write what I write because those are the kinds of books I like to read. Period.

 I’m also retired and well into the back nine of life. I can afford this attitude, which allows me to create lists of entities who, in the timeless words of Senator John Blutarsky, can kiss my ass from now on (I promise this is the final list of this post):

1.      The publishing industry.

2.      Agents.

3.      The Trump Administration.

4.      Booksellers who make it almost impossible for indie writers to get shelf space.

5.      Grammar Nazis

6.      The Trump Administration.

7.      Pedants of any stripe.

8.      People who don’t read.

9.      The Trump Administration, Natalie Harp in particular.

10.  The Trump Administration in general.

(You may detect a pattern there.)

 

Do not comment that I’m old and cranky. I know I’m old and cranky. My lifetime allotment of fucks to give ran out about the time I learned my publisher would not provide sales figures except in the annual “quarterly” reports I received, and I found errors in those. So take everything here with a grain of salt.

 

And get off my lawn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Going to See the Elephant

 My brother and I have a tradition of taking a ‘bro-trip” when either of us celebrates a birthday ending in zero. For his 50th we spent a weekend in Chicago; I used to live there and he’d never been. When he turned 60 we went to upstate New York to see the baseball Hall of Fame, then to the largest motocross race in the country, at Unadilla in New Berlin.

This year I turned 70 and had never been to Las Vegas. We took care of that earlier this month, the excuse being the country’s largest pool tournament running from August 4 – 9.

We stayed at the Flamingo, where my brother’s wife got us a stupid cheap rate. (I think it was $218 for the three nights combined.) As neither of us are gamblers, the hotel took a bath.

I’d like to tell you all the cool things we did, but, you know, what happens in Vegas and all that. I can share some thoughts.

• You may not be aware of this, but Las Vegas is hotter than a dog’s balls on a griddle. No one was frying eggs on the sidewalk; they were roasting whole chickens. Highs were in the 110s every day we were there. The low each morning was 91.

• The food was outrageously expensive, but excellent. A Gordon Ramsey hamburger cost $26.95; it was also the best hamburger I ever ate. Bottled water at the hotel was six dollars. (In what was clearly an oversight, vending machines in the hotel sold the same water for only $3.10.) Beers were routinely $13 – $15. We did find a place that sold dollar wings and three-dollar drafts during happy hour. The wings were huge and excellent. If you’re in Vegas and want that combo, check out Bottled Blonde, across the street from Bellagio.

• The sports book at the Westgate is large, quiet, and comfortable. No one hassles you to spend money, and no bright lights are in your face. We came to view it as a sanctuary. Of course, we weren’t there during a football weekend.

• Speaking of sports books, you can get a bet down right now – today – on NFL games to be played in January. It’s safe to say anyone placing such a bet – not knowing how the season will play out or who might be hurt – is a degenerate gambler who should seek immediate assistance.

• As might be expected in a town where the sole industry is tourism, everyone we dealt with could not have been nicer, and it never seemed forced. The sole exception was a pissy blackjack dealer who was taciturn at best when I didn’t see the “$50 minimum” sign at her table and tried to get a twenty down. 

• Among these friendly people was an attractive young woman we met on The Linq Promenade, dressed in a cowboy hat, boots, chaps, and nothing else except for little spangly things over her nipples. She asked me if I wanted a picture with her. I replied, “Do I and will I are two different things.” She laughed and we went our separate ways.

• The monorail passes we bought the first day saved our lives, possibly literally, given the heat. We were able to tour the length of The Strip while never spending more than a few minutes at a time away from air conditioning. The two-day pass was the best $26 I spent all week.

The end result was about as I expected. I always enjoy time with my brother. We’re not just close; we genuinely enjoy each other’s company, even if we’re doing nothing more entertaining than riding the monorail or cooling off in the Westgate sports book. 

While I had more fun than anticipated – the tournament exceeded all expectations – now that I’ve been I see no reason to go back. I won’t go out of my way to avoid Vegas now that I know the niches where I’m comfortable, but it is the most ostentatious, extravagant example of profligate spending to be found outside of Saudi Arabia or Donald Trump’s bathroom. Several times each day I couldn’t help thinking any nation that can afford this kind of spectacle can afford to feed hungry children and make sure they and their grandparents have adequate health care.

Stu turns 70 in 2030. Embryonic plans are already under development.