As promised, a new Edward Daniels original short story is now available for your enjoyment. In order to spend more time writing and less time managing what is being sold through which channels, I’ve opted to focus in on two major distributors for this project. As always, Saving Liz is available through Amazon. It is also currently available through Smashwords. Over the next few days, I’ll be relying on Smashwords to handle distribution to other retailers like Barnes & Noble, Apple iBooks, and a host of other smaller sellers.
It’s exciting to be back in the saddle. I really enjoyed writing this one and I’m just so pleased to feel like I’m finding my way into something of a groove. I hope you’ll take the time to give Saving Liz a quick read. If you like it, make sure to leave a review with the retailer or leave a comment here. Every comment helps make things just a little bit better for next time.
It might not be a labor of love, but I can promise it’s always a labor of lust.
Seeing that my last post is dated February 2015, you could be easily forgiven for thinking I was dead, had given up on the habit, or was lying drunk in a ditch somewhere. Fortunately for me none of those things is true. The fact is that over the last 16 months I haven’t done much writing. I did move into a new place that brought all manner of domestic challenges from flooding to tree trimming to just getting settled in. Fact is, I just unpacked my last box back in March and the place is finally starting to feel like home.
In other news, I’ve claimed a nice sunny spot for my own and have turned it into my own little writing room. Having space and not tripping all over ever other living creature in the house has been a bit of a dream come true. So as much as I wish I could tell you a story full of adventures, the simple truth is I let life take over for a while and put writing on the far back burner.
A few weeks ago I started feeling the old familiar itch again. Like all the best itches, it’s not one I could treat with a shot or a pill so I sat myself back down at the keyboard. I’m rusty. Really rusty. That’s ok though. I wasn’t expecting an erotic masterpiece. It’s out for its second reading now, but if you ask my opinion I think I’ve delivered a surprisingly sweet little short story considering some of the other territory I’ve covered in my writing.
After this current read through I expect I’ll have a few notes to address, some formatting to deal with, front and back matter to write, and a cover to design, but sometime in the first have of June I expect to deliver my first short story in a year. It feels good.
I’m not ready to officially set myself a schedule for blog posts yet, but I promise I’ll be back soon as I get those last few items knocked off the list. I’m ready to get back to work.
Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. I’ve actually got some large life changes coming over the next few months and – you guessed it – that means time is at an absolute premium just now. I’m not even going to pretend to be able to keep posting on any kind of a schedule. I can say for sure that this is a good thing – I’m not battling a life-sucking disease or being sent to prison, so I expect by sometime in the summer things will be back to what I think of as normal… so don’t worry about me one little bit. I’ll still check in here from time to time. I’m going to keep smacking a few words at a time onto the current project. And if all else fails I’ve got a pretty healthy back catalog that should keep you entertained for a bit. Keep it dirty while I’m away!
Writing this week is like wading through knee-deep cold molasses. Just trust me when I say I’m not getting anywhere fast. There are plenty of ideas rattling around my head but they’re not making a smooth transition to the written page. As they say, the struggle is real.
Still, I’ve had some good news on other fronts recently. Unfortunately that good news means there will be even less time available in the schedule for writing. And there in a nutshell is the constant battle I fight – for every new thing that comes along, something old most go over the side or you have to divide a diminishing amount of free time between more and more things to do. In my head it’s a constant war between wanting to do one or two things reasonably well, or halfassing my way through many things. Going in either direction I feel like I’m missing out on opportunities. I might be an old fool, but I’m not fool enough to think that there’s time enough for all of it.
So much to do, so little time. I’m pretty good with time management, but I’m damned near out of ideas when it comes to fitting a little more into the schedule.
Nothing helps a writer so much as personal experiences. Sure, imagination is a powerful tool in our kit, but I find myself more and more often turning to real life experience as a guide to how certain characters might respond to events in their lives. It feels a bit like having at least a touch on insight about how they act, what they might feel, and above all how they could respond to the situations they find themselves in.
Now since my current short story takes place largely inside a strip club, it feels like seeing a bit of exposed flesh might help the story along. It would be even better if I could find a way to write off the lap dances as a business expense, but we can’t have everything. I’m not at all sure that’s a conversation I want to have with the family accountant anyway.
I met some delightfully entertaining girls over the weekend who were no doubt very ernest in the efforts to put themselves through school. I’ve always found it very difficult not to be well motivated by a lithe young thing sitting on my lap, treating me like a rock star. If I just so happened to pick up a few ideas for the story while I was there, that’s just a bit of icing on the cake. I’m just going to try to forget how many $.99 ebooks I’ll need to sell to make the weekend a worthwhile investment.
It’s a little more settled around here on this end of the week. The frayed nerves are a little less frayed. I’m starting once again to find comfort in the routine and asking a lot less “why bother” questions of myself and those around me. I’ve even managed to start working through my notes again and had made concerted efforts at getting my head back into the current work in progress. No fresh word count to report this evening, but it’s baby steps back in the right direction. I’m tired of being sad and pissed off at the world, so at this point anything that smells like normalcy is welcome in my home.
After the loss of a friend from long ago and far away over the weekend, I can’t help but be reminded of the all too brief time with which we have to contend. He and I hadn’t talked face to face in years, but he was the first of my old adolescent group of friends to pass. I’ve been feeling the lost these past few days more sharply than I might have suspected. It’s not just a reminder that we’re no longer young and indestructible, but also a hard reminder of the things that fall away when we’re all pressed with work and family and grinding rhythm of a life in progress.
I wish I’d have reached out more often, not just to him, but to all those who were once close but are no longer. All those friends from long ago who we might catch up with occasionally on social media, or see in passing, but with whom we never get a chance to stop and talk or share a memory about how important they were in us becoming the people we are.
My mood these last few days hasn’t been in the “writing place.” At least it hasn’t been up to the kind of writing I do here. Under the circumstances it feel petty and not at all worthy of the effort and time. I’d give everything to be racing towards the horizon right now to say a last goodbye to someone I should have never lost touch with… but as they say, I have promises to keep. Damned if that hasn’t been the problem all along.