WriteSpeak

My name is Carey D. Conley.

Hello, brand new writing world.

I would imagine similar sentiments expressed at Plymouth Rock, or when the Eagle landed on the moon, or how the first visitors to Mars will feel one day when they step out onto the surface of a strange hostile new world with pressure suits the only things standing between them and instant transformation into beef jerky.

One major difference for me, though. Writing is not really so new for me.
 .
Anyone who knows me knows my history, but what most folks I've met during my adult life may not know, is that before my days as a broadcaster,  before the voice overs, the audio book narration, I was a writer. I won awards for poetry and short stories in grade school. Plaques, trophies, and slack-jawed disbelieving gawks went along with the honorable mentions, the article published in a national student magazine in high school, and the articles, editorials and comic strips which I authored for my school papers in both junior high school and high school, and the original comic books I authored and illustrated and gave to my less-than-appreciative cousins when we were kids.

In my early adult life, I got away from writing as I pursued a career in broadcasting. God decided to bless me with a pretty great voice, and after hearing "Gee, if you were on the radio, I'd definitely listen to you," dozens of times, I decided to get on the radio. I did radio for many years, until automation, syndication and consolidation caused the jobs in that field to dry up like a marker with a missing cap. One day in the summer of 2000, while working at my last full-time radio gig, a listener called me and asked me how it felt to be replaced by a syndicated show - while I was still on the air. Not the first time I'd experience the truth behind the saying that, when you're fired, you're usually the LAST to know. As the end became more apparent each day, I could only laugh at the idea that as a Christian, I was being replaced by a program with a name inspired by a biblical harlot, and I was certainly no Samson.

I managed to remain on the fringes of my broadcasting life with voice over work, including the occasional commercial, small internet stations, and audio books. In fact, if you do a search for audio books by T.D. Jakes or Dr. Myles Munroe, you'll likely see my name attached.

Yeah, that was me. When I started doing audio books, it was long, tedious work, and the pay was good, but one day, the the company I did those books for suddenly stopped calling me, stopped returning my calls, stopped answering my emails, forgot I existed. And I tried for a long time.

After a long while, I finally reached the publisher, for whom I'd worked directly and asked him if there was an issue; he assured me there wasn't.  He also mentioned that he was coming to town in a few months and suggested that we should hook up when he did. I agreed that I would be cool with that. He said he'd call me as that time approached. After not hearing from him for many more months, I sent him a message, to which he informed me that he'd come to town and left some time ago and was 'sorry' that he'd missed me. I know, convincing, right?

Finally outside of the broadcasting life which I thought would be my career, I found my way into the rat race along with the majority, working jobs which were contrary to my talents, and were in fact a drain on them. Several of them were pulled from underneath me, with no warning, no explanation, no justification.

In the midst of all this, I decided to come home to writing. Thank God for technology. If we were still doing this with typewriters, I'd be somewhere working on a wellpointing crew, carrying quarter-inch thick, seven- foot pieces of galvanized plastic pipe that was as much as two feet in diameter, uphill through two feet of snow, while getting muddy and wet removing ground water from construction sites in sub zero weather. (No, wait, after the broadcasting career dried up, I did that too. I even worked a day picking up trash at a trash dump. Seriously.)

My point is, it's too easy for others to take something away from us, even if we're good at it, even if we deserve it, even if we need it, and leave us to kick rocks, shovel shit, or both.

Do you think the people who owned that radio station cared if could pay my mortgage or not?
Do you think the guy who ran the publishing company I did the audio books for even cared if I was still alive?

Do you think the folks who ran the wellpointing crew I worked on - which was filled with racist rednecks - cared if I dropped dead of a heart attack and landed face down into a frosty mud puddle, as long as I didn't keep them from taking care of their families?

If you  answered yes to any of those questions, I need you to send me ALL of your money...TODAY. You know the Mayans said you were going to die today anyway, right? Since you can't take it with you, you could let me take it with me.

Like one prominent minister once said, while he was ladder climbing, he knew that he could never get to the top of someone else's ladder, thus he decided the safe bet was to get his own ladder.

So my pursuit, my new passion, my new career, my new ladder, is my oldest one, writing fiction.

As an author of fiction, I won't pursue a traditional print deal with some publisher who'll keep the lion's share of the profits of my work, and essentially pay me a commission, while owning me. I know several authors with publishing deals who have no say over the titles their books get, their covers, or any final changes. To top that off, if they want to publish something apart from their publishers, they must use pseudonyms, because their contracts with their publishers prohibit it them from "competing" with their publishers.

Think about that. They can't even use their own names, because their publishers own those too, along with the rights to their likenesses.


I've done lots of work for other folks in my lifetime, and I've watched other folks make most of the money for it. No more. Whenever I write a book, rest assured:

I'll publish it. (I'll own the publishing company)
I'll OWN it. (I'll own the ISBN numbers.)



It will be mine one hundred percent, my residual-producing intellectual property, which no one can ever take away from me and my family on a whim, as I've had other things taken from me before, and I'll be dead before the rights to my freaking name will belong to someone else.

So here I am, writing. Again.

It's good to be home.

Stay tuned.