Every Time I See Your Face, It Reminds Me Of The Places We Used To Go

So I’m sitting here with a chapter of THE APPROXIMATE DISTANCE TO LIMBO open, re-reading it to figure out how to finish it. I decided to add a chapter and do it separately, though it conflicts with my initial formula of one new world per chapter until i resolve the novel properly. I haven’t quite figured out  how to do that, actually, so I’m quibbling. I’m hoping to solve the mystery of how to end the chapter some time today, and in so doing, give myself a proper template for ending the following chapters. If I knew the rest of the story by heart, the book would have been done months ago. Instead, I’m hoping to have it done for Christmas.

I WAS hoping to have LINKTALES Volume Two done for Christmas, but then, I think I’d said the same thing last year, which was really unrealistic of me. I DID at least get THE BACK ROADS OF LIMBO done and out the door, and I’d like to make sure I get at least one new book done this year as well. I figure that, if I manage one new book per year as a bare minimum, sooner or later, people will have to acknowledge that I’m a writer, even if I’m largely only self-published.

Self-publishing is a funny bit of business. The only way to get ahead seems to be to pay to have services promote you, while you focus on writing. So in essence, it’s the same as it always was, only with a lot more amateurs and more frequent books. I don’t know how Joe Konrath and his friends have all achieved so much success when it all seems to hinge on writing a book a month and publishing it as fast as possible. It seems to involve writing the precise kind of book that they previously discovered a market for, and not stopping until the cast is off to the knacker’s yard. There’s also a bit of fiddling with prices periodically to see what the market will bear, but as far as I’m concerned, no change in pricing is going to make my books look more tantalizing.

I still haven’t found my audience, though it seems pretty clear from the frequency of visits to read ‘The Last Love Scene‘ that what my blog readers/visitors are looking for is sex, or at least lusty romance. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I have HOT NIGHTS IN LIMBO, an anthology of sexy excerpted scenes and short stories in the works, but I’ve been too busy to just polish it off. I probably really should just devote a few weeks to getting that done and out the door, so I can see if my version of erotica works for people, minus all of my heavy plotting and character development.

I suppose I should write something that connects to the title lyric: it’s from Ringo Starr (and George Harrison)’s most famous hit song, Photograph, which is a personal favourite of  mine. It doesn’t make me sentimental for any one particular person, but I AM listening to all of this Cure music, which keeps reminding me of my old school buddy, Bryan Williams, who was my first drummer and songwriting partner. Lately, I’ve been thinking I wished he and I were still working together. He had a nice pragmatic streak that counterbalanced my esoteric side very nicely, and I can’t help but think that I’d be a lot further along by now if he and I had stuck it out instead of drifting apart.

These days, there definitely seems to be a deliberate effort on his part to avoid me, and I can’t help but feel that he thinks I said or did something somewhere that he has taken personally. I can’t recall ever saying anything that should lead to over twenty years of refusal to speak, but then, if I can’t recall it, it either was a misunderstanding, or I was drunk and said something perfectly beastly that I probably don’t want to remember saying to one of my best teenage friends. Being friends with Bryan and sharing music got me through a few really turbulent years where I thought I might kill myself.

Yeah, even I had my over-dramatic listening-to-the-Cure-and-hating-my-life phase, though it may not have been as obvious to some as it was to me. I didn’t actually attempt it. I think that, either I was too much of a coward or too self-possessed to throw in the towel until I’d had a chance to prove them all wrong, whoever they were. I can’t remember most of them anymore; the jeering faces of the popular kids who all wanted me to feel about as low as possible, treating me like shit and congratulating themselves for keeping another uppity loser in his place.

Bryan, if you’re still out there, perhaps reading this, I honestly don’t know what I said, but I seriously didn’t mean any of it. If I ever did something to offend you or someone you know, I didn’t mean that, either. I hope you’re having a good life, man. Take care.

So the plan for the rest of the day is to finish ‘New Beginnings’, or the follow-up chapter, ‘Willow The Whim’, at any rate. With any luck, I might also finish ‘Make-Up Sects’. I have four or five out of twelve chapters in various states of completion, as the actual overarching plot of the novel kind of breaks down here, and it has to be solved in about twelve to fourteen chapters.

Listening to The Exploding Boy… one of a handful of great Cure B-sides Bryan introduced me to on the old ‘Staring At The Sea’ ‘double album’ cassette version of their first (and still best) Greatest Hits/B-Sides compilation. I should really learn this one. It’s a great little rocking acoustic number. Maybe I’ll dedicate it to Bryan, if it won’t offend him further. *chuckles*

Time to get back to work. Have a good day. Thank you for reading.

Lee.

Don't be shy. Tell me what you really think, now.

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