|Posted by johnnieraz on March 16, 2025 at 2:55 AM|
By John Rezell
Some people confuse patience with laziness or apathy. Oh, not me. When it comes to work of any sort, I'm as lazy, er, I call it efficient, as they come. When it comes to most everything else, well, I'm about as apathetic as you'll find. But when it comes to something I really care about, I'm neither lazy nor apathetic. I'm patient. Oh, so patient.
That's how I eventually published three books, by being patient. I waited until technology caught up with me and allowed me to publish books that I want to read and that I think some — not everyone — might be interested in.
So I wasn't lazy. It takes a boatload of work to write a book, much less three. But I was apathetic toward the tenets of traditional publishing. I grew tired of agents and publishers attempting to convince me to make my work just like everyone else's because that's what sells.
For years I've wondered why I have such a lack of interest in cashing in on my creative endeavors. Then I looked around my home office, at the myriad of creations of my Dad.
From the rock people he made from stones we found on the riverbank to his whittled comedic characters (the doctor with a saw in his hand and the woman next to him with her legs on backward) to his loons with the body of a nectarine pit, it suddenly became crystal clear.
My Dad would emerge from the basement with his latest art — or we would all open our presents at Christmas to see his latest — and we would rave that he should sell them, that people would pay for them. While he graciously accepted the compliments, it was painfully clear that would take all the fun out of it.
Oh, I can relate.
And so it has been for my young adult novel that I'll make into an animated film someday, my handful of screenplays that play on the big screen in my head, and my board game. They live in my closet and my head. Waiting patiently for the right time. Their time.
It's not that I'm an egomaniac believing that everything I touch is gold. It's just that I know I'm unique — just like everyone else in the world — and I want to celebrate my individuality rather than surrender it to attempt to make us all more alike.
I've survived as a writer for publications over the years focusing my attention on my job to create the way I want to, to the best of my ability, then surrender. My byline had two lines. I took care of the "By John Rezell" part. The editing team took care of the publication's responsibility. I was fine with that, mostly because I worked with great editors who respected my work and changed very little.
My other endeavors, well, they are personal. They are part of me. They express me.
My satisfaction and joy come from creating. The fun of coming up with something clever that prompts me to laugh at myself is unparalleled. I've never felt the need to cash in because, really, no amount of money can match that experience. It's what I live for.
This all matters now because, thanks to technology like Kickstarter, I'm about to take a big leap and bring my board game out of the closet. I can no longer rely on publishing to pay the bills for the rest of my working life. Thing is, I love what I do, so I'm not about to stop doing it because I've circled the sun a set number of times.
Everyone who knows me understands I'm out there, living in my own world. I've said I plan to live to 130, so retiring anytime before 120 or so just doesn't make sense. I need something to keep me engaged until animation software catches up to me and I can do a whole movie by myself.
So stay tuned. If my research proves the time is right for my board game career to begin, it will happen soon ...