Your own book release shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.
Well, this is it. This is the part of being a writer that sucks so much worse than the movies show. This part hurts.
I’ve indulged in enough nature documentaries and post-apocalyptic YA fantasy stories to know that if you ever find yourself stranded – especially on an island in the middle of the ocean – the most important, number one, highest-priority thing to do is find potable water.
Because no matter what we write, we must give some of ourselves over the story, to the writing, to the characters, the sacrifice every writer must make to get it right.
Because here’s the thing, the best thing I’ve ever written is the last thing I wrote. It’s the thing I’m writing now.
Alright, so this week’s post is a carte blanche to brag about yourself – me! – and frankly that seems hard. So I’ll skip the officially blog business and get down to a fun and humorous account of the thing I’m proud of!
Except this storm causes a problem. The drain sewers in the street are backing up and then they are shooting out, bubbling, gurgling fountains of rainwater gushing down from the sky and up from the ground.
When it comes to titles, I am all or none. Some days, the blessed title deities generously bequeath the perfect name for my current work in progress, simply out of the kindness of their hearts. Other days, the well runs dry, the ground cracks below my feet, and I beg for the simplest drop of inspiration, but none is to be found.
It was only a matter of time before our paths would cross, but I firmly believe we would have found each other, no matter the circumstances. Mary is a friendmate, and I am lucky to call her mine.