I had written about half a blog before this came to me. One minute my mother is fine. The next she is completely and utterly delusional. She is under the mistaken impression they get me anywhere these days. And when I mentioned I might be moving out she requested it be near where she lived. Halfway between Shepherdville and Mount Washington because they provide so much of my transportation.
This is the hard part about being a small press author. There are few who are the bestsellers where large sums of cash come rolling in. Sure there’s more creative control and I am more proud than anything to call myself an indie who worships at the feet of the Indie King Kevin Smith who does it all. Writes books, does podcasts, has a television show, and makes movies the way he wants to. And he’s self-sufficient and helps his friends. Meets his heroes. That’s the indie life I want. And who the hell wouldn’t?
Until then I struggle in some respects. My mother is angry at Roy, my nephew’s father and she’s taking it out on me. I have been perfectly content to stay in my room, write, and leave her be. Yet she had to come to my room and command me to live somewhere nearby since I depend on them so much for transportation.
Which is such a crock of shit. My friends Missy and Pam are the ones who take me just about freaking everywhere. Understand that? E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E.
Friends, thank god for them. I think I’d go insane without them. And my publishers. Who seem like good people. And my writing. My writing is my sanctuary, but when she gets like this it’s hard to hide in it. So I come here. Vent to my silent witnesses.
I knew I had to get out of this house. So last night I called and made a reservation at a hotel nearby. Me, Missy, and Pam are going to watch the pre-show of the Golden Globes and me catty then watch and handicap the awards. And cheer our favorites on.
I know from the few interviews I’ve read of yours that you’re not big on the red carpet stuff. And I’ll be honest as much as I want to dress up and be recognized for my work the throngs of camera and microphones and hot lights doesn’t appeal to me at all. It triggers all kinds of anxiety in me that I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemy.
And while I might complain about my anonymity in the small press, I must admit, I enjoy it when I get the rare fan letter, but I like being able to walk the streets unnoticed. I like people I just don’t like being suffocated by them.
Which made Fandom Fest such a rarity for me. The honest truth is with award show season in Hollywood is upon us I’ve created a little award show season for myself and Missy with scripts that runs through April. The finalist and award winners announced from January-April.
The contests are That Book Place’s Authors Fair writing contest, Scriptpipline’s First Look Entry Project, and Nashville Film Festival’s 1st Screenwriting Competition.
I must admit I haven’t been dwelling on these because I have been consumed with the books I have been writing and the job as Marketing Director for Hekate Press I’ve been doing.
I’m actually, after a brief sabbatical back to myself. I got away from what is my true passion and that is the writing. I’ve just got to learn to stay balanced. Which is, honestly the key with anything. So now, as my anger and anguish is extinguished over my mom’s meltdown and me going down the path with her on that particular nasty ride, I can get back to writing on Bella Morte: Devil’s Backbone, and later Order of the Dragon. A series ala the Dark Hunters series in the idea that these characters live in the same world and sometimes cross paths. It’s about dragon shifters and their riders. No pun needed please.
As it is I feel better. Thanks for listening.