Jed Hartman has an entry up at Lorem Ipsum on the intellectual property debate between the ‘alpha geeks’ and the SF ‘Old Guard’ — or, you might say, between the Cory Doctorows and Harlan Ellisons of the world. In it Jed notes that the most reactionary of the Old Guard

tend to claim that any reduction of copyright laws is a step on the road to an anarchist future where no art can ever again be created by ordinary people who need to earn a living.

It occurs to me that maybe one reason they feel this way is that they can actually remember a time, not so awfully long ago, when the idea of making a living by writing (as opposed to by having written, with a dozen books perennially reprinted) wasn't an unreasonable one. I can see how it could be painful to have to watch that time slip away, and how one might react with an unreasoning virulence to anything that might tarnish its memory.

Now, this is just a quick back-of-the-envelope calculation — and, obviously, leaves novels out of the equation — but I believe I remember Jay Lake telling me that he'd figured that in a given month there were about 25 or 30 ‘pro’ slots for SF short stories. If we say that each market pays 6 cents a word and that the average story is 5000 words — again, back-of-the-envelope — I figure that comes out to a pot, for the entire pro SF short story market, of about $100,000. Not a lot of livings to be made there.

Naturally I'd rather be paid for my work than not — the occasional check for $100, or $200, or even $10 never hurts — and naturally I dream of the day when I have a shelf of my own at Elliott Bay, just after China Miéville and just before Michael Moorcock. But I'm too sane to be in this for the money — which, I think, goes a long way toward explaining why I had to side with the People in People vs. Mickey Mouse.

So what am I in this for?

Time to trot out Samuel Johnson: ‘No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.’

I'm going to go oil and polish my head now.