For the second time this month, I’m having some serious self doubt about who I am and what I’m all about (what can I say, my convictions are weak).  My mind is making flippy floppy, and I think it has to do with the literary community’s conflicting reports about the general state of writing and publishing.

For example:  Ted Genoway says fiction is dead, but the Atlantic Monthly recently recommitted itself to publishing fiction. Then there’s the whole “reading on screens is the future of reading” vs. the print is not dead debate (the difference, apparently, is akin to “looking at a woman and having sex with her.”).

So what’s a body to do? I’d like to pick a side, preferably before AWP (just in case I find myself at one of Lewis “The Lap” Lapham’s parties, I’ll want to be able to start berating “Chuckles” Rushdie with my opinions immediately). Also, if this is the death knoll of writing and reading, I’d like to know so that I can quit writing and reading–that shit is hard. Other possible life paths include running away to my grandmother’s house and/or opening up a Pinkberry.

As I contemplate this serious life changing decision, I am reminded of the something Andy Dick’s character on NewsRadio once said: “You got to know when to fold them. You got to know how to hold them.” Too true!

I’m sure I’ll figure it out. In the meantime, here’s a song by Ron and Russel Mael of Sparks that perfectly captures my befuddlement: Your Call’s Very Important To Us, Please Hold.