This morning’s been all about soaking up the weird dreams I spent last night having while listening to Blue October. I still remember where I was the first time I heard Hate Me, they lyrics staying with me long enough that I got home and fired up my old Windows laptop (good God, that was a long time ago) to search for them. Approaching Normal is one hell of an album, and one that I’ve never felt the urge to write any books to just because it is so raw. It forces me to listen instead of write.
The mermaid short story will be finished today, I think. Then it’s into revisions for The Marked. Getting that done as soon as possible and through the copyediting and formatting is the priority now. Once that’s finished, I may look into the genie story again. It would be nice if a publisher would show some interest in that or in Afterwar, but I’m not holding my breath.
On that note, every once in a while, I’m going to quietly and politely ask that if you liked one of my books, you head on over to Amazon or Barnes & Noble or wherever you like, and at least leave a rating. Ratings and reviews get books pushed up in the algorithms, and that means more books sold, which means I can afford to write more books for you. (It also means I can pay my mortgage. I’m a big fan of that.) If you have the time and the inclination, I’d appreciate it.
There’s another short story pressing on the back of my brain to be told–the Fifteen Wings one–but that’s going to have to wait. It’s not finished marinating yet, and in any case, short stories are just not a good use of my working time unless they’re already sold. If the mermaid would wait, that would be nice. But this mermaid doesn’t wait, I think. Especially when she’s hungry.
The Princess is playing Chopin in the living room, which marries uneasily to the music playing softly through my desktop speakers. It makes me smile. As soon as I finish this I’m off for a run, and then it’s work, work, work. As usual. I feel like the year’s turned a corner, which would be nice if it hadn’t taken over half of it to do so. Of course the news is still terrible, but I have a faint glimmer or two of optimism welling up inside my tiny, shriveled, blackened little heart.
I’ll take it.