It wasn't vacation. Maybe it was writer's block. Mostly, it was me jumping through some self-publishing hoops as I prepare to launch my puny novel into a largely unwelcoming world, a scoffing, haughty, naughty world that undoubtedly has no time for my "literary" shenanigans.
But now I pledge to reboot the blog, starting tonight, because I have been sent new and shiny bloggacious ideas. One came courtesy of my five-year-old: an insight into blind patriotism. One's from the news: a commentary on something called Slutwalk. And presidential politics are heating back up again. And for all we know, God is still out there, as long as you define "God," "is," "still," "out," and "there" in just the right way.
Anyway, the novel, yeah, it's done. It was submitted to my "publisher," which is just a company I hired to help me turn my story into an actual good-looking, professionally presentable piece of prose on which I can earn royalties. (I promise, the book is NOT full of alliterations. I make it a habit to save the worst humor for this space.)
So the process was vain, the result likely vainer, but now the novella (25,000 words) is in production, and before the summer is through, it'll be for sale. Sometime in August, I'll write a post about it, a preview of sorts; sometime in the fall, I'll update you on my efforts to sell it to people who want to pay me for it. Then, it'll fade into the obscurity for which it was destined. Which is totally fine. Mostly, this was a fun hobby that kept me busy for the past two years. And completion feels good, dadgummit.
But for now, let there be write!
Sorry.
No comments:
Post a Comment