Thoughts that Breathe...and Gasp and Wheeze!
Yes, I've wiped my books off the planet! They are in the polishing garage for repairs before I continue my pursuit of an AAR literary agent or a traditional publisher, whichever comes up first before my death.
You know, long-range planning.
My legitimate start in the writer business if you don't count the poem I wrote in second grade about my Brownie Troop #9, Kingman Grade School, Peoria, Illinois or the short story for my sophomore English teacher who asked me where I copied it from, then sent it off to a teachers' magazine, came with the sale of my six-loaf bread recipe complete with pictures of me in a judo gi. With the twenty-five-dollar check I bought a guitar. I still have it. In blankety-blank years I took two lessons. Well I was very busy all those blankety-blank years!
This is not an epitaph for my writing career. Writers do not stop writing until they stop breathing: WATCH ME BREATHE!
I'm disgusted with self-publishing because dammit, I've got thirteen writing awards hanging on two office walls, I've sold to Berkley/Jove/Putnam and I intend to do that again...and again.
So I'm polishing.
As I polish, I will show you the work...free for you to read.
So stay tuned.
Beginning with Over the Edge, I'll post here and ask for your comments. You don't even have to be kind. I take all feedback seriously.