“Lost on a wave and then after
Dream on on to the heart of the sunrise
How can the wind with so many around me
Lost in the city”
~Yes, Heart of the Sunrise
(I always thought the lines said, ‘Short Distance’, and then ‘How can the wind with its arms all around me’, ‘I feel lost in the city’, but whatever…)

So, here I am. The book is finished. Some other stories are starting to bubble up, but nothing that grabs the nads, so to speak. Looked at book 2, Demon in the Studio, and just am not quite ready to dive in to it yet. Maybe because I’m scared. I sent out Ghost On Tour to several people who expressed interest in reading it, but none of them seem to have started to read it yet. Am I too impatient? Were they just humoring me and are not really going to read it? Have the read the first page and put it down with a faint sniff of disinterest. Yeah – I know my first chapter – THE Chapter that is supposed to hook the reader, drawing them in like a sea bass being dragged behind a twin diesel fishing boat – starts a little slowly. I wasn’t into re-writing that chapter just yet.  Still not really into it.
I made the mistake of opening the printed version of the book, which is sitting in the bathroom waiting for my mate to read it, to a random page and of course I spotted a smattering of misspellings and typos. No, I really didn’t review the text as I should have before I .pdf’d it and had it printed because I think I was really tired of carrying that baby around. I just wanted to have it and damn the presentation. This is it – here it is – take or leave it. The problem now is people seem to be leaving it.
It wrote the book for me. I did, really, but it’s hard to exist in a vacuum.
One of the girls at work was talking about how her sister was having trouble at her office. People were not speaking to her, being rude, pod-sharking her computer to send out nasty emails to others. Not sure what the sister had done, if anything, to deserve such treatment. Anyway, the girl I work with said that she doesn’t care if people talk to her. It’s not something that bothers her. Well, normally I’d agree. I’m at work and I’m here to work. Yeah. but today, the mosquito of loneliness hovering about my head, I have to say that yeah, I need people to talk to me. I need some sort of interaction that shows that yup, I’m here. People see me.
Ouch – that fucking mosquito just bit me. Pardon me while I wipe the eyes…

Anyway, this writing stuff has to be easier than I’m making it out to be. How do those authors who put out 2 or 3 books a year do it? Especially romance authors. I know lots of people think that they are formulaic and to an extent they are but even so, the writer has to get into the minds of the characters (who are speaking through the mind of the writer and yeah – that’s one of those rabbit hole paradox thingies that’ll make your mind squirm), and so come to know those characters intimately. And the story happens, and the book finishes. And then a new set of characters, and another story, and geeze. I guess my point is, if you can dump all these characters and start another one and then dump them again, there has to be some sort of distance or detachment between the writer and the character/story, so that starting a new story is a) fresh, and b) not just like the story just written.
I long to write from a place of detachment, where I can just tell the story and have it finish and go on to tell another story and have it finish and not be concerned about typos or people’s reactions or non-reactions – and yet, I want the reactions. I want acceptance.  And so I care about the stories.
I’m sure my buddy Valorwolf would tell me to grow some rhino-hide.