The creative candle is once more burning low. Summer started with a flurry and has reached this point, the lull between the light and the dark, and the promise has become frayed at the edges.
I have been writing almost flat out throughout the summer months. More to the point, I have been marketing and publishing, and bloody editing. And here I am, edging towards a new academic year, wondering what it has all been for. What is the fruit of my labours? What’s the point of doing all that hard work when many people just choose to avoid reading it?
I have had some little highs along the way. Three lovely reviews of AWOL and three quick-read Piper books in the top 100 classic horror charts. So, something has been working. the problem is that I came, and come, from a culture that believes that it is wrong to trumpet your own causes. When I flag a success up, I can hear a chorus of derision coming my way: “Who does he think he is?” “Me,” is the answer.
At the moment, I have three good quick-reads there to be read. I have AWOL languishing a little and Read After Burnout.com languishing a lot. However, my candle has burnt down at both ends; creativity is not around, so I’m leaving the marketing in order to do the writing. I have new ideas that slipped in under the cover of darkness and I need to record them. I have a Story of Eve to complete. And I have a Flowers and the Dead to continue with (my little rebellions come in the form of punctuation).
So, now I’ll occupy your leasehold literature and spit the bones back into the lap of anything that sits in front of me.
For now, tea awaits in its nice, big mug.