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Sunday, May 29, 2016


Photo by author May 2016
I decided to split from my publisher and get my rights back to my novel since I was doing all the work and reaping none of the rewards. We'll see how it all plays out when I self publish my renamed novel, but I am going to take some time to regroup and continue writing my other projects first.

It's been a difficult journey in some ways. Self-doubt and frustration of how much work it takes to make a few cents. Yet, writing is something I have to do whether I feel like doing it or not. It's nudged me from the darkest corners of my life. It screams at me in my dreams. It wheedles its way into my everyday. It's a parasite clamped onto my limbic brain.

Writing is hard work. Everybody thinks they could write a novel, but few of us actually do it. It's a long process for most of us. At it's essential best, writing for me is the world. The cosmos. A supernova of experience. The Holy Grail. At it's worst, it is Death itself. The Devil. Armageddon. Sometimes all those things at the same time.

So, here is my advice to my fellow creatives (for what it's worth): blossom anyway. That's right, we're all just buds waiting for the right temperature, the right amount of moisture, the receptiveness of the environment, the right amount of sun, the best soil--there's never a perfect time. There's no way to read the trends. There's no magic formula. It's still just one word at a time. One paint stroke. One caress of the clay. The first cut to the wood. One musical note. One (maybe three chords). Do it your way. Get some outside opinions from people you trust to tell you whether it's crap or not, but do what's in your heart. Take critiques for what they're worth and consider the source. Learn. Grow, but don't give up. Yes, even the most beautiful flowers die. The great thing is, they blossom again. Why should we be any different? Bloom on.