Typical evening scene in a tiny Amazonian jungle village
I’ll be spending most of today giving love to my novel, and working on a packet of goodies for the would-be publishing helpers. We’re meeting tonight. They’re a group of people who pursue works of art with an existential awakening theme, assist the author in self-publishing, and then spend 24 months marketing these works via their national catalogues, conferences, etc. It’s certainly not a traditional means to get book-to-market, but I would no doubt learn SO much about the publishing process, be in a fabulous place to get book 2 out, and not have to labor through the agent process out of the gate. Agents don’t love you when you’re not published, yet it’s so hard to get published without one.
Long story still rather long – I WANT this.
I’m not nervous yet, but I’m sure that will strike in a jiffy. I don’t care about making huge stinking piles of cash anymore, I just want to see my girl in print. But there’s so much editing love left to do before she’s ready – I need to focus. Yee gawds, I’m GIDDY.
Something happened this morning, too, that made me cry. I sent in my official questionnaire yesterday for the next Amazonian journey. I’ll be headed south again right smack dab after Christmas. Anyway, the leader of the expeditions – an absolutely amazing, evolved, clairvoyant angel – said that he knew from the get-go that I was destined to impact the world on a very large scale, and that my second journey was, without a doubt, going to open up incredible avenues of power and self-awareness. To be held in such esteem by someone I believe is transforming the world into a much more beautiful and loving place – fucking special, I must say. This on the heels of a job loss, of a week that could have paralyzed my sense of worth. And instead, I simply know I have purpose. It involves words on screen and paper, and the rest, well – I’ll find out soon. Until then, dammit, I have to get published.
