Oh dear, I didn't manage to sidestep that innuendo at all, did I? In fact I seem to have fallen face down right into a big steaming pile of it. Ah well, such is life...
In one sense I'd really like to do some moving. I'd like to move people enough to make them smile or - even better - laugh. I'd like to move someone sufficiently to have them shed a tear, and I hope to one day hit as many emotional notes between tears and laughter as is possible to do. I've been told that the work that I've made public in print has done all of the above, however the sad truth is that the group of people who have taken the enormous financial risk of purchasing an electronic copy of the book for less that $5 remains small. Compact. Bijou, even.
To do something about that requires me to try to be a version of myself which is so far outside of my comfort zone as to be impossible to imagine. I have tried, but I don't seem able to visualize that version of me. I don't know what he would look like or sound like, and I suspect that he would feel very anxious. It's not, therefore, an attractive idea. Hence, the matchstick. My cunning strategy is to sneak up on the planet a little at a time, and chip away with my tiny lever (I'm disliking this metaphor more and more as time goes by) in the hope of making a difference.
Now, I'm not stupid. Actually, let me re-phrase that: I'm not incredibly stupid. I know that the chances of success are basically nil. I know that the idea of being 'discovered' by the world is a pipe dream, but then I don't want to be famous. In my imagination, a successful version of Liam Samolis is an enigma wrapped in a mystery and tied up with silly string. A rich enigma, but a very private one, too. While I'm happy to tell the world about the time that I got my gentleman's sausage trapped in the fly of my jeans and almost fainted on the spot, I don't relish the idea of having fans ask me to autograph their zippers (or worse).
No; fame is not for me. The idea of entertaining, however - that's another thing. That's why I still get a kick out of any feedback that may trickle in my direction. It's why even one book sale gets me excited. Writing to represent my life (and soon, writing fictional work) for my descendants is my chief motivation, but entertaining the reader comes a solid and worthy second.
As saddening as feeble book sales can sometimes be, small wins are still every bit as special to me as they ever were. I'm not stopping now - and my dreams - no matter how improbable - are still all mine.