The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same

It's been a long three months since I posted here last. A lot of things have happened. I sent 'Dancing With the Darkness' to an agent, who agreed to represent me and she told me she thinks she can sell it. That was back in January. Since then, I haven't signed anything yet, but a small publisher has agreed to take a look at the book. If they take it on, any revenue coming to me would be based on 8% commission of per-jacket sales, but no advance because I'm previously unpublished (and therefore unproven). Not bad, I suppose, but the agent says that if they take it, it will be more than a year before I begin seeing checks come in from the sale. I figure I'll know one way or another by August, and I've been told that the publisher is going to change the title of the book to something a little more marketable (but what that is, I don't know).

I'm past the jumping-for-joy stage and into the 'anxiously waiting for a contract' phase. If it goes through, the agent gets 30% of my 8%, which is a good chunk, but worth it (I suppose) to finally see my stuff in print.

In other news, I've gone back to work on The Rose and The Dandelion. A large re-write is in order, because some of the subject matter may be unpalatable for readers. The first draft went way beyond what I wanted it to do and even wandered into several subplots I'd never intended. What is R&D? A sort of 'American Beauty' on crack. 'Dancing' will probably not be a bestseller, but I think R&D's got a chance at being one. I've got to make it marketable, though. There are some aspects to the story that people may find too hard to understand or identify with, and I have to work on those. Again, as I've said in the past, I have a hard time thinking in the way that most people do. My thought process is horribly skewed somehow, and I often don't catch it when I'm writing. In order to focus more on writing, I've quit my job at the paper and now I've suddenly got all this time on my hands. I've got 40 grand in the bank, so I can live on that for a while, but if I haven't done anything within the next 6 months, I might be in trouble. In the meantime, I've got nothing but time.

In all reality, I was going to quit my job a long time ago. I used the excuse that some freak from the ------- forum was calling me at work as my reason for leaving, but that wasn't it. No, it was a hostile work environment. I had too many people breathing down my neck, and to be honest, it ate up so much of my free time that I couldn't even run to the post office on an errand without feeling guilty. I was chained to my desk, but I'm free now. Free to think, dream and write.

Writing IS important to me, and I've had what I wanted on the back burner for so long that it was growing cold.

And so I left my job, moved out of town and now I'm living in the middle of nowhere. It's not bad out there. No traffic noise, no train noise, no people arguing next door. Just us alone, on the high desert plain. I love the afternoons the most, when I can take one of the dogs and walk the dirt roads, watching the setting sun turn this quiet out-of-the-way world into gold. The wind tosses the weeds across the ground, stirring up the occasional jack rabbit, and this symphony of whispers is punctuated by the infrequent howl of the coyotes in the distance. Who ever thought that desert could be heaven? I've always loved the desert for some reason, maybe for the utter emptiness of it. A place devoid of humanity. A place where (for a little while)I can pretend I'm the only living person on earth, all alone with my thoughts. And in the evenings, when the last pink rays of the dying sun caress the hilltops, I find myself smiling for the first time in many years.

Home.