It's been a long time since I wrote for this blog. Probably months. My head and spirit has been filled with marketing my book, "Sitting in the Silence." It has been daunting. Even harder than writing the darn thing! Oh sure, the book publisher will be so helpful with marketing--at a steep price. So, after forking up a lot of green stuff and months of back and forth with strange voices somewhere out there in cyberland, I'm asked to fork over even more of my green stuff to have them market the baby.
My first royalty check (infusion, I mean) came in. A huge $78.45. Wow! I am sure F. Scott Fitzgerald didn't do this writing just for the fun of it. He had crazy Zelda to support, even though she was a great writer herself. Maybe in his days they bartered for pages. He'd call his publisher and ask for a case of scotch for 100 pages. Then a table for 10-12 at a famous restaurant in Paris for the next 100 pages. I could go for that(the restaurant in Paris, I mean).
My people have been fabulous, showing up for multiple book signings. I begged my local library to have a signing there. It was the place where I had my first library card. Remember those little tan cards with a piece of metal attached with your own number on it? It was my most valued possession.
The book signings are so much fun and I am so grateful for all who attend.
This move to a new state has brought up problems with book signings. First, not that many people know me here. Second, the book stores are hurting. Third, they don't recognize self-published books. So, this woman gets creative and I've joined a church that is open to my dribble/words of wisdom. I'll have a workshop there and hawk my wares. A girls got to do what a girls got to do.
So, dear blog readers. I ask if you have purchased one of my wonderful works to please write a review - send it to me? and recommend the book to your nearest bookstore. I'd really, really appreciate it.
Monday, October 28, 2019
Tuesday, May 21, 2019
BEING A FRIEND
It's been a while since I blogged. Almost six months. Doesn't mean that I have stopped writing, creating and putting this name out there.
My book was launched into the world in February. It is quite a beauty, I must say. I have a few boxes to fly out to all of your hands, but this blog is not a commercial. It's a big hug.
I've had life-long friends in my piece of New York where I live. That doesn't include the New York City and try-state area loves I've met along the journey. I try to be in contact with people, and social media helps. It is not like a personal phone call or a few lines written down by hand, signed "With Love" from me.
Life-long friends are hard to come by as we age. My husband, who is six years older, has had a few pass away in the last 5 years. That actually terrifies me. My siblings have gone, they were younger. There were (sorta) good reasons why their lives were cut short. But to make it to 60 plus years and have a friend die...well, that cuts me to the core, sometimes. That is called mortality.
We've aged, I know. Does that mean that we can't see each other as young souls anymore? Do they see me as my little hippie wannabe in my teens and 20's? Do I judge them because they let their hair grey? Dare we keep the conversation going as we age, bringing out all the aches and pains, surgeries, deaths, upsets that life gets thrown at us in our aging?
We spent a few months in the Florida sunshine. I call it going into the "Witness Protection Program" since nobody knows your background or financial situation. It was hard to make friends for me. I have so many women and men that I can be real with. It's like starting over in Kindergarten, making friends, breaking into the "in" crowd, being seen with the "popular" people. It's lovely not to know who those people are! I come back to my hometown and take a deep breath. Yes, I may not see the old gang at first. I may not see them at all. But the memories are here. The weekends at Fire Island, the friends whose kids grew up with ours, all the memories of baseball, soccer, First Communions, Graduations and parties on Saturday nights. The comfort I feel just having the air around me know that this is where we sprung our roots together.
If I have been a good friend to you, I'm glad. If there is anything I failed to do, please forgive me. Because you are important to me.
My book was launched into the world in February. It is quite a beauty, I must say. I have a few boxes to fly out to all of your hands, but this blog is not a commercial. It's a big hug.
I've had life-long friends in my piece of New York where I live. That doesn't include the New York City and try-state area loves I've met along the journey. I try to be in contact with people, and social media helps. It is not like a personal phone call or a few lines written down by hand, signed "With Love" from me.
Life-long friends are hard to come by as we age. My husband, who is six years older, has had a few pass away in the last 5 years. That actually terrifies me. My siblings have gone, they were younger. There were (sorta) good reasons why their lives were cut short. But to make it to 60 plus years and have a friend die...well, that cuts me to the core, sometimes. That is called mortality.
We've aged, I know. Does that mean that we can't see each other as young souls anymore? Do they see me as my little hippie wannabe in my teens and 20's? Do I judge them because they let their hair grey? Dare we keep the conversation going as we age, bringing out all the aches and pains, surgeries, deaths, upsets that life gets thrown at us in our aging?
We spent a few months in the Florida sunshine. I call it going into the "Witness Protection Program" since nobody knows your background or financial situation. It was hard to make friends for me. I have so many women and men that I can be real with. It's like starting over in Kindergarten, making friends, breaking into the "in" crowd, being seen with the "popular" people. It's lovely not to know who those people are! I come back to my hometown and take a deep breath. Yes, I may not see the old gang at first. I may not see them at all. But the memories are here. The weekends at Fire Island, the friends whose kids grew up with ours, all the memories of baseball, soccer, First Communions, Graduations and parties on Saturday nights. The comfort I feel just having the air around me know that this is where we sprung our roots together.
If I have been a good friend to you, I'm glad. If there is anything I failed to do, please forgive me. Because you are important to me.
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