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It occurred to me today, while doing my 2010 taxes, that filling out income tax forms is quite a bit like a labyrinthine and depressing Choose Your Own Adventure game for adults.  (Or maybe Lose Your Own Adventure is more apt.)

If you choose to try sneaking past the Audit Dragon, fill out form 1040-Schedule X.  If you choose to wield the Wand of Deferred Tax Credits For First Time Home Owners Who Are Also World War I Veterans, fill out form 1040-6652N…

Earlier this week, I got a note from an old friend of mine.  I’ve known Bob for nigh on 25 years (!!!) and though we don’t see each other very often, we keep in somewhat sporadic contact with each other.  So I’ve been able to keep track of Bob and his wife as they’ve moved to all manner of exotic locations around the world.

So anyway, he told me our high school graduating class is having a reunion this summer.  And I thought, “Wait… that reunion?  Are you sure?  That isn’t possible.”

How in the world did so much time pass?  What have I been doing all these years?

This is the kind of conversation I occasionally hear in the hallway:

“…so I found a company and got a price, but in the end I decided I just didn’t need to own that much tantalum.”

This is a topic I’ve been meaning to post about since last May.  (Not sure why it has taken so long for me to do so, but the most likely culprit is my general fecklessness when it comes to keeping the blog up to date.  *cough*)

Self-promotion is an important part of an author’s job.  (And it’s no secret this is the thing I dislike the most about writing.)  Which isn’t necessarily a good or bad thing, but just a reality of the publishing landscape.  But I’ve come to realize that we writers aren’t the only folks who struggle with self-promotion. 

Maybe it’s endemic to all creative endeavors.

There are worlds, somewhere within this infinite multiverse, where genre television doesn’t get consigned to the Friday night death slot.  Worlds where the most enjoyable shows don’t automatically receive critical acclaim and deadly low ratings.  Worlds where promising and inventive genre television shows are allowed to find their legs and build an audience, rather than finding their fates determined by three episodes aired on two different nights of the week.

Those worlds are not this one.  But, oh, if only they were.