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Archive for May, 2009

Buy Me

It’s kind of up to me, isn’t it? Short Stories out all over the place, waiting to either be bought or come flying home to be sent out again. On the go. Hustling. Reinventing themselves after an editor comment. Out again, walking the streets. Ringing doorbells.

But the novels. Ho Hum. They lay around, leaving napkins on the couch and beverage stains on the furniture, watching informercials. They are large, ponderous and sigh: why who we have to do anything? Don’t you have to revise us one more time? Can’t we just take up space on your thumb drive a little longer?

They stand at the refrigerator, begging to be fed. They lean an elbow on my desk chair, one ankle crossed, waiting to be noticed.

Okay! I get it. They want me to grow tired of them so I will kick them out, cut off their allowance, demand they bring home the chi-ching! and drop it into my lap as my hard-working butt sits in the writing chair.

Okay! Get the f*#k out! Wear your best power suit. Shine and smile! Eye contact! Shake hands. Go get ’em.

And, sigh, remember where your home is. I won’t change the locks. But I will send you out there again.

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OK, I am going to whine. I have to whine. I apologize in advance for whining.

I have a day job. It makes me bipolar. One day I am loving it and my colleagues and the next day I can’t stand anyone and I am paranoid–they just fired someone and every time that happens I think I am next. Are our offices in an old converted apartment house haunted?haunted-mansion

All is going well with the new novel–story moves, I love my characters, urban fantasy my favorite!!. But I want to make money at it. I want to quit the day job and (considering I make a lot of money at it) that seems downright impossible, unless my husband and I sell out and go live in a trailer court.

I am selling the odd short story to the odd little market, but nothing to the big markets yet. I have four finished novels sitting around begging to be sold–yeah I recognize I am behind in my marketing strategy.

I know my success as a writer depends on me and no one else.

The tarot cards tell me the same thing.

OK, done with whine. Time to go wake the husband up and get ready for the day job. (Will write on the bus again, if no fat man sits beside me.)

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