Shades of Gray
Remnants of a Storm
Remnants of a storm — Sky and sea harmonize Fifty true shades of gray
The worst of the storm has passed.
Earlier this morning it tore into the sandy shoreline then climbed the bluff and headed inland, up the redwood hills and then east for Oregon, trailing streaky clouds.
Covered in my yellow PVC tent (my raincoat is a tad too large) just to make sure (even though no rain at this very moment), walking by the ocean this morning and looking out over the still roiling Pacific I am struck by the utter lack of sheer white or sheer black: everything, including the water, the agitated waves, the clouds, the sand and rocks, are one shade or another of gray.
Yes, fifty at least.
The true shades of gray.
Leading me (by freewheeling association), once again, to ponder (with some astonishment) the almost guaranteed success of the clever romance writer — especially of the risqué variety. The book that came to mind, “Fifty Shades of Gray”, was a runaway hit that was made into a movie as well. Sex does indeed sell.
Another way to put that: man’s lowest common denominator does indeed sell. It can and will titillate anyone with a 3rd grade reading skill (which does match the writing skill in question as well — I think).
An illustrative case in point: For some years now, I’ve had over fifty some stories (short stories, novellas, and novels) published on Smashwords with some, though limited, success. But then, as the years rolled on, this web-based self-publisher has been more or less (gradually) hijacked by romance and soft porn — its current bread and butter, I suspect.
Frankly, I don’t know anyone who reads that stuff, though I can imagine why some would want to.
And they do, in droves. These days virtually every Smashwords bestseller is of the Romance cum Soft Porn persuasion — I don’t know about the out-and-out porn (which they also publish, I believe) since I have always blocked that section of the store. In the end, kind of disgusted with the current state of affairs, I removed all my writings from active duty, and moved them to “unpublished” archives — distancing myself, as it were.
As a writer with things I believe are important to say and share, I should, and often do, despair.
But then again, back to this morning, who can despair looking out over this universe of living, gull-crying gray?
© Wolfstuff
