So, with no formal announcement, I’m going to try to do the daily online journal balancing act, again. I’ll let people know, eventually, but I’m hoping to avoid the débâcles that the original Perforated Lines created. To that end, I will not try to make friends or influence people. No Pepys!
In the course of having some successes in life, you also have a whole lot of very interesting near-misses, almost-rans, and of course, total disasters. 🐔
It’s been a really long time between posts, because I have been busy. It’s mentally challenging to turn 70, trying to keep the gratitude table set because I know how lucky I am to have reached this milestone … while at the same time … there is a gnawing panic that can easily overwhelm a less robust personality than mine. For every ache or pain, there is a commensurate rose-gold sunrise or a sudden cupcake in your lunch.
I have been working doggedly to get my novel and little Vietnam memoir in good shape so I can really start to advertise them and try to get people to read them. I am pretty pleased with the Cleaning House website, so that’s a start.
I have finally done it, I think. I’ve finally gotten the frame around my first novel and focused it enough so that I can release it to the wild via the wild world web. The big hold-up has been my life-long rule, which was hammered into my pliable brain from grade school and onward, to never pat yourself on the back. So, how can I package up any of my books if I can’t praise myself? It has been a conundrum.
But now I’ve finally solved it. It’s called “Acknowledgments.” A-ha! I’ve never bothered to write one for anything I’ve ever created because I am a very lazy slacker and I don’t like to make extra work for myself and no one has ever missed it or demanded it. However, I always read them in other people’s books, word for word, usually. I often look up the people the author thanks or ahem, acknowledges, and so I learn about other writers I might also enjoy along the journey to Shambala.
Success is taking longer than expected. However, I is persisting. 🐔
Yeah, I’d say that turning 70 has been pretty invasive, so far. I never expected it or planned for it – much like my publishing debut, come to think of it. I wanted to be published. I worked toward that goal like a person possessed, but I never planned what to do once the deed was done. Worse, I’d lost my biggest goal … as unsettling as watching a lighthouse go dark.