Since 1952, the population of the United States has doubled. If I said that in the past sixty years the population of my living room doubled, that would not be cause for alarm. I don't compete with the inhabitants of my living room for survival. We collaborate.
But America is not my living room.
Americans in 1952: 157,552,740
Americans in 2012: 312,901,000
Twice as many Americans competing for a sense of belonging and identity. Twice as many humans who need to be fed, clothed, sheltered, enlightened, amused and loved.
What does that mean for artists?
81% of Americans say they would like to write a novel one day. On average, .0005 percent of Americans actually make a living as writers.
In 1952, 70,000 Americans called themselves professional writers. Today 152,000 Americans get paid to string words together to inform, entertain and challenge the masses.
Twice as many workers competing for less revenue from twice as many customers.
An increase in readers does not increase the demand for new books. A thousand books can just as effectively stimulate a million people as a billion people. Technology further allows fewer writers to reach more people.
So take solace, writers: We are less valuable to America than ever before.
We are free.
Here are two recent expressions of my freedom:
1) a collection of new work called "If it won't reach...stretch," a pocket-sized reader featuring contemporary poetry, fiction, essay and comics by a diverse group of people who have at least one thing in common: They are friends of mine.
To browse the book, or buy a copy, follow this link: If it won't reach...stretch.
2) "Yeah lovin' it," a spin-off of Real San Francisco exclusively featuring pictures of McDonald's trash I saw on the ground.
Visit here yeahlovinit.tumblr.com then use the Submit link to send your own pictures of McDonald's trash and I'll put them on the site.
More people means more hamburgers, more trash, fewer book deals, fewer summer homes for authors. Welcome to the Free Market. I'm free at last.
