A year ago I took upon myself the task of developing a quality website and putting all my books in one place. That involved concurrently working on books to get them published and finding a company to build a website. The result is that I have the website with five books available on Amazon. Very attractive website and the books show well. Since last year I discovered an old manuscript that I would like to polish and publish, two children’s books where I am searching for an illustrator to complete, and the germ of an idea built around Jesuits missions in the northwest in the nineteenth century. Facing me immediately is helping a company develop a search engine that brings people to my website and my books. Also facing me immediately is finding an illustrator for the children’s Blue Mountain books which I would like to have available for the grandchildren by Christmas! It forces me to ask myself, why? Why all these self-imposed deadlines and targets? I have to think about that.
On top of that there is always grass to be cut, painting and repairs to be done, fire wood to be cut and split, and a bunch of other stuff. Oh for the joy of quiet moments when I can actually write and then look fondly, most of the time, at those few pages I have written.
Self-pity is like a salve on open wounds. And you can pat yourself on the back at the same time. I feel better.