Ghosting At the Edge of Shadows

Months fade. Days run by like water and too often, we listen to nagging excuses.

For me it was a lack of ambition. Annnnd inspiration, strong will. Of course there was determination, motivation, stress, the abundance of cynicism, questioning my ability, defeatism, and doubting everything from start to finish.

In other words, I am a writer.

And so I’m back. No promises because that gets me in trouble. Goals—when kept—work great. When not, well, it’s a killer. Having firm objectives works for some people but not so much for me. Live and learn.

And thanks for the cheese. (You know who you are)

A New Beginning and the Beginning of the End

The world of the writer seems smaller to me today. Politics intervene in friendships. Publishers fail and kick their authors to the curb. Smarmy writers tell the self-published that they aren’t worthy. Too much going on for someone like me who prefers a quiet life.

And my cat died along with my coffeemaker.

Politics. It isn’t easy for either side. Let’s pray violence doesn’t ensue due to hatred and media pushing their agenda. I hope we can give these next few months a chance without resorting to vitriol and mayhem.

Publishers. If you find a publisher who believes in you AND stays in business, “lucky” doesn’t begin to cut it. I didn't know how great Musa Publishing was until they closed shop. They paid their authors and gave us back our rights, an example of a moralistic company.

All Romance Ebooks is the opposite example. Total creeps. ARe closed its doors with a vibrating slam. How they treated their authors gives all small publishers a bad name. Two days notice and ten cents on the dollar for all those greedy authors.

Read shame shame

Writers Living in Ivory Towers. Self-publishing was my only avenue after Musa. After hearing some of the horror stories from other writers about their publishers, I didn't trust anyone with my books. It's been an okay move. I paid my way with professional editing and a great cover and I am satisfied.

But this established author doesn't believe in self-pub. It's as if she stepped into something foul and wants to scrub it off her shoes before it contaminates her life. The title of the article should clue you in: Self-Publishing: An Insult To the Written Word.

Go. Enjoy. Say a few four-letter words. Then read the comments. Trust me, you'll feel better.

D'Oro. He was fifteen when he died, my cat. 
Yes, I was expecting his demise. No, I didn't think I would react as I did because, well, I was expecting it. 

*sigh*.

He was a good cat. The kind that would sit in your lap and purr nonstop.

I buried him in a quiet place and told no one. My family will ask someday, "Hey, what happened to 'D'?" And I'll tell them. 

Until then, I'll be sad and try not to think about him too much.

Time to turn over the calendar and give 2017 a chance.