I would like to say that the reason this blog has been inactive for so long is that I've been writing and writing and writing, and managing all the money that's come in as a result of my writing, but that would be a lie, and I really try not to lie except within the framework of fiction. This blog is not fiction.
But it is a confessional of sorts. It is my opportunity to put in the public sphere some of the experiences -- I would never presume to call it wisdom -- that have brought me to whatever point I'm at when I wrote that particular post. Perspectives do change as the experience that informs them changes. In other words, we look at Christmas much differently after we learn the truth about Santa Claus than we did before.
I came to this blog with all the same excitement and enthusiasm and hope that accompanied my long-ago writing endeavors. The dreams I had set aside 15 or more years ago came back to life. I revised and digitally republished one of my books, and I hoped to do the same for the others. I was looking forward to restoring one of those books, Moonsilver, to its original intended length and adding the segment that had been left out when the length was chopped from the 130,000 words of the original proposal to 100,000 via the contract.
Oh, the hopes and dreams and enthusiasm!
But Pocket Books would not relinquish the rights to Moonsilver and held onto them via the contract terms that said they only had to make the book "available" to readers. What appeared to be a print-on-demand edition was offered at Amazon and Barnes and Noble online, at an outrageous price with no cover art until several days after the official "release." Within three weeks, even that much had disappeared from BN.com.
And the sales of Secrets to Surrender languished, generating far less income than anticipated and not quite even recouping the cost of a professionally executed cover.
But other events occurred that chipped away at my enthusiasm, and even at my faith in myself. People I trusted proved to be, shall we say, untrustworthy. I began to doubt my judgment even -- or maybe especially -- when it came to my writing. Was any of it any good? Was I wasting my time? Should I give up my dreams -- again -- and just spend the rest of my life transcribing accident claim statements for insurance companies?
The argument at Dear Author didn't help. The backstabbing by two long-time friends was devastating. I felt as if there wasn't much reason to continue. Just go through life one boring, directionless day at a time. . . . forever.
Has anything changed? No, not really. There have been some small successes, all outside of the writing sphere. I put some of my jewelry and other crafts on an Etsy site and made a few sales. I did well at the art shows I participated in, especially the Canyon Arts Festival in Gold Canyon the end of January. But
the ongoing disappointment and frustration lingered.
I'm not sure how I'm going to shake it off, but I refuse to let Caroline Tolley and Pocket Books defeat me again.