Whatta they got that we ain’t?

Fame, fortune, and an ad in Variety!

But that isn’t why I’m here today.

The neighbors’ ponies

Cute dog NOT panting (after being bathed)

So why am I beating my head against the impassive rocks of NY publishing, sobbing about never getting published, when I already have more than they have? It defies logic.

I need to just GET OVER that. I need to resolve that it’s OK to just put CAMILLE, MIRANDA, and the two mystery series (four books in all) online for those who like “this kind of book” to download. Although I still believe with all my so-called heart that the Marfa Lights novel is just as good as the “average” traditional category mysteries that are on the shelves, I’ll never have the chance to prove it, so why not invite the audience that I *can* have? Sure, it’ll lead to a lot of talk about how the stuff just isn’t good enough to get an agent, etc., but that’s going on already. I just need to release that need to prove something–whatever–and accept what Is. I’d still like to put the books out there, and if that’s puffery, so be it. If I could just get past the thought that this is giving up, giving in, and admitting defeat.

I need to release the notion that my work needs someone to anoint it, to accept it, to say that it’s “good” by some “standard.” (Scare quotes intentional.) Am I there yet? I don’t think I am, quite.


But I still have the biggest pond and house and yard! So there!!

*Even if it were true, that SHOULD be cold comfort, eh?*

*I suppose not*


Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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