Self Pebbling

I have no idea what 'self pebbling' is but my phone insists I forget 'self pub'ing' and try pebbling instead. This computer too. Is it a sign?

I've been talking with a friend about self publishing. I'm strongly considering it for my second book that is out on submissions. I love that story. LOVE it. And it makes me sad to think no one wants to publish it... and so far no one does, except me. So, why not?

Except every seven minutes I do an about-face and decide I should keep knocking on doors to find a perfect fit through traditional publishing. Self publishing is daunting. It's expensive. It's risky. But I've read it's rewarding and fulfilling and fun. (I don't really believe the 'fun' part). I'm not a salesperson. I'm basically the opposite of a salesperson, so how would I get the word out about a book I published?

Which of course, comes to the point... what is the point of publishing?

1. To make millions of dollars so I can buy more fun toys for the cats.
2. To become famous, a household name for generations.
3. To make an idea, a file on my computer, into a real, live, hold in your hand and sniff it book.

The first would be nice, but I'm not banking on it. The second would be horrible. The third? Seems pretty close to true. So if that's the end goal, then self pub'ing would be much more productive than self pebbling or even knocking my head against the closed and locked publisher doors.

I might just go for it.

N

PS. I have no idea what this tree has to do with 'self publishing' which is the google search under which it appeared, but isn't it pretty?

Self Directed Therapy

I'm an introvert. I cry at movies, and I act goofy around people, but when it comes to true emotions? I shut it down tight. I am terrible with confrontation - I'll cry before I'll fight back. If I'm upset, I don't want a hug, thank you very much, that only makes things worse.

I have a friend going through some really shitty stuff. Like in the grand scheme of shitty, her stuff is near the top. And she's far away and I'm here and I'm too broke to do much about it. And even if I do go... what is there to do? It's not the type of shitty stuff I can fix.

It's interesting, though, to me... if I step out of my head long enough to examine my thoughts which I do with frightening frequency. Does that suggest psychosis? It's interesting that when I'm stressed out about stuff, I rhyme of lines of literature in my head. Not 'real' literature that's been written, nothing soothing like Shakespeare or Maya Angelou. It's my own crap that's not worth putting down... but it's like I'm processing the emotions - mine and those of the people around me - through a literary description, through a line of prose, as if I have to compose it to understand it.

So I've had lots of voices whispering to me this week... none of them productive and many of them painful. This is the kind of stuff I wish nobody had to write about. least of all my friend
.

N

Here you go...

Here's a companion piece to Game Plan... The Halloween party from Charlie's perspective.

I've been poking away at it for a while now. Also working on some edits and met a deadline. And that's all I have to say about that.

N