When dating my (now) wife, the first time I ever told her I’d fallen in love with her was on April Fools’ Day. All these years later, I keep saying I’m waiting for my last breath to let her in on the joke.
What follows are not April Fools’ Day prank statements.
I have absolutely no interest in finishing any of my novels in progress or beginning a new one anytime in the foreseeable future. The idea of spending most of a year (or, hell, two or three) writing one big story that will eventually be published only to sink like a stone fills me with meh.
I actually do have a couple of novels “left” out there now - one with a small press that is scheduled for release sometime later this year, and another, unpublished, I was recently offered the rights back to that will be looking for a new home.
I can’t see any circumstance under (or over or beside) which I’d ever search for an agent again. Same with big 4 (3,2,1) New York publishing.
If I’m “discovered” after I die, and some big NYC publisher makes any money off my stuff, I will haunt the living crap out of them.
Now, the short stories will keep coming. I can’t seem to stop them. I find the experience of writing them enjoyable, and I enjoy the whole submission process. It might take 20, 30, 40 plus tries to find the right home for some of them, but the rejections don’t feel heartbreaking and soul-crushing like those from agents and book publishers.
Or like that time an agent called, said he wanted to work with me, had his assistant call and ask me bunch of questions, ghosted me for six months, then called again out of the blue to say yeah, we’re ready to go, then got pissed I posted a link of one of his other authors’ new book on Amazon in pre-release because he and the author had big plans to announce it and I apparently *ruined* it with my stupid tweet that reached maybe five hundred people at most, had another minion call me and demand I take it down, then never ever contacted me again.
Prick.
All that matters is the work. I write stories I want to tell. They will either get published or not. I’ll keep trying.
I have a mysterious stomach ailment the doctors can’t figure out. Crossing fingers they’ll name it after me.
I really like this song “Too Sweet” by Hozier, so I thought I’d go check out his other stuff. Four albums of searching later, I thought, “That’s it? One good song?”
I then realized I like the song because it sounds like other songs I already like: “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley, “Rebel” by Portugal the Man (fuck that period in the name of his band. Nope), “Colors” by Black Pumas, and “Tighten Up” by the Black Keys. That’s not a bad thing. I also like any song that sounds like “The Air that I Breathe.”
I leave you today with a photo of our new rescue cat Lita. The rescue called her “Crinkle” because of her bad ear, but I thought it looked metal, so I named her after bad-ass guitarist Lita Ford. Happy Spring, everyone!
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Just a note to say that I still had this tab open. I gotta clear stuff out more often.
Great stuff my friend. Found myself nodding my head a lot. April 1st is also memorable day for me. My youngest daughter's birthday is today. You can imagine the fun we've had with that down through the years. And hey, I found the right PWG issue!