Tags
cafes, cats, creating, dreams, editors, memories, Procrastination, publishers, Route 66, Self Publishing, Spain, subconscious, Tik Talk, Writing
It’s time to do something with all those words I’ve written. I promised myself that 2013 was going to be the Year of Publication — but I was counting on a publisher magically slipping down from one of those clouds they live on and just taking care of that. Well, obviously, that didn’t happen — to be honest, I was not exactly out there pounding on doors to make it happen either. But too much procrastination can make an already lazy woman downright comatose. And that scooting off for those laid-back weeks on Route 66 certainly didn’t help to make me get moving on the book front. I was having far too much fun — if that is even possible. (My sister, Susie, once sent me a clothespin that had been decorated with the words “Too much of a good thing is wonderful.” I squeeze it on my nose when I start taking myself too seriously.)
But serious I must become if anything is going to happen with those written words I have tucked away. There they sit, abandoned on my laptop in a file labeled “Final Draft” Draft! I didn’t even have the courage to label it “Final Manuscript” — oh no, couldn’t do that. Yeah, I know, that all things in life are still in “draft” form but I could have used the “M” word when naming that file since it was just between me and my computer. I wonder how the words feel about being shoved away in that file all these months. If no one reads written words do they get lonesome? Miss the editors worrying over their commas and meanings? Long for the days at the Tik Talk Cafe communing with other words being written there? Do they feel neglected if that file isn’t tapped on for weeks on end? I bet they do. The cats wouldn’t put up with that kind of neglect. When I’ve been away all day or don’t pet them as I walk by or — sin of all sins — shake the bag of Temptations at the prescribed time every day, they let out lamenting moans of neglect. It’s really too too sad. However, they — unlike those words — are not silent sufferers. Oh no, if the verbal discontent doesn’t bring the desired wishes, they show their displeasure with sharp nails and nipping-teeth.
Could all this dilly-dallying around be considered “dissing” my work? Me? All those hours, weeks, months, years in the Tik Talk Cafe writing? And even, heavens forbid, the Intrepid Editors? No, never — well at least when it comes to the editors’ part.
My impatient subconscious, trying to get me moving, put its two bits worth into the argument last night in a dream. (Dr. G. get that clip board ready!) There I was with a whole busload of other tourists making our slippery way up to the top of a mountain in Spain. I knew that this was not such a good idea since the road was covered with ice and there wasn’t even a dream-like guardrail on that curvy road. But no one was bothering to ask my opinion about that or anything else for that matter. At the top was a Sanatorium/Hotel. (It actually looked a lot like the leper colony that loomed above my house in Spain all those years ago.) Anyway, this military looking type in brown khaki told us we wouldn’t be going home — no siree — we were TRAVELING TO THE PAST! I wanted to know if it was my own past or if I could pick another one from someplace other than Columbus, Ohio just for variety. No Answer. In fact, this place was getting pretty spooky. It seems we were to travel to the past in a rocket ship that looked an awful lot like that one that crashed into the eye of the moon in that old, French movie, Le Voyage Dans La Lun. I wasn’t liking any of this at all so I started to look for someplace to hide. But, alas, big brother was everywhere. My only recourse was to wake myself up and not go back to sleep until that rocket had taken off.
The message, however, was still loud and clear this morning. “Get off your duff and do something with those stories about your past”. So, folks (I’m really talking to myself here), I’m Ready To Stand Up and Free The Words! Let them out to strut their stuff — whether they walk their walk or talk their talk is entirely up to them. They at least need to get the chance, eh?
So I’ve taken tiny baby steps: I’ve renamed that file. Printed out a copy so I can see the pile of words right there on my desk upstairs. And sent out for the calvary in the guise of my Social Media Guru Sarah to help me along the path of Self Publishing.
Annie's Odyssey 