Why is it ... ? Part 2
While chatting and surfing with her - nice to do with someone far away! - she sent me to a page with a short story she liked. It was "A Rose For Emily" by William Faulkner.
I liked the short story, but was intrigued by one of those banner ads on the page. It advertised a free writing course. Something called "F2K". Well, that sparked something, brought something to life, so I surfed over and signed up. I went through a session - 7 weeks - of F2K and liked it, and joined WVU, its parent organization. Heck, it was just for one year, so it's not like I signed my life away. Besides I had money then. *sigh* Yes, I did, then. And I was thinking, quietly, that maybe these folks would show me how to get published.
So, I joined a Study Group or two, posted parts of chapters, gave feedback to the other writers, and generally had fun. I managed to get a few short stories published - and paid for! - and started work on a few projects that I eventually abandoned. And Time, of course, passed.
My Dear Lady agreed to move down here, so I paid to first move myself - from a small one-bedroom! - bought a plane ticket to the north, and moved her on down. An expensive, love-filled adventure! And I was madly, deeply in love. Within a few months I had lost my decent-paying job, and had scrambled to find a carpet cleaning job that paid less than half what I had been making, and ate up 10+ hours a day, six days each week. It exhausted me, frankly.
By the time we experienced the Four Hurricanes in late summer of 2004, she was tired of the lack of money, and my seeming inability to look for better jobs. And she left. Much as it hurt/hurts ... I can't blame her. I told her I'd take care of her, and in the end I could barely take care of myself.
By the following April my car had been repossessed, the phone - and dial-up - had been shut off, and I was barely hanging on. Writing was just another dead dream at that point. I was now working at Wal-Mart, had saved enough to buy a bike, so I could ride to work, and was on the trail of a cheap truck. Eventually I was able, with some help, to get the phone back, and with it the Internet.
May saw me wake early one morning and go through the submission Guidelines of ePress. Well, what the heck, right? I was going nowhere, I had nothing ahead of me, so why not take the plunge again? So I pulled out the manuscript, made sure it fit the guidelines, and emailed it. I related that tale here, so I won't bore you with the story again.
After nine years, and a lot of crap in between, my manuscript began the publishing journey. Nine years! Now do you see what I meant in the previous post? Why did I want to go through that again?
I had a nice short-ish tale in the SF genre. Might make a decent novel. Might! But do I want to write something as involved as "Dune"? I just don't know. So, can I sit my arse down and do what my head tells me to do? Write down the dialogue I hear, describe the scenes I can see? Do I?
Gotta say, it still scares me, just as "Benning's War" scared me when I began it in 1996.
Yeah, I know I will, too. But I don't wanna!