Category: The Quest

The Voice Speaks

Previously on Betsy’s Blog…

Harry, Betsy’s Quest Guide, is afraid Betsy has become derailed in her Quest to be a successful indie author. This fear appears justified when he finds her lying in a slovenly heap in the temporal lobe of her brain, drowning her grief and sorrow in a sea of sugars, fats, and chemicals. He tries to snap her out of it, and seems to be making good progress when suddenly another Voice speaks.

Who is this Voice? What does it want? Why didn’t Betsy know it was there? Why is Betsy’s mouth smeared with confectioner’s sugar? Join Betsy and Harry as they strive to find the answers to these important questions…

(and now, we resume Betsy’s and Harry’s conversation, already in progress…)

*Harry evades Betsy’s outstretched arms* Okay, so, first of all. Who else is in here?

*Betsy blinks* Who else? Nobody.

*Harry shakes his head* I know I heard somebody else in here.

*Betsy frowns* No. Seriously. It’s just me.

I don’t–

BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*Betsy looks around her brain* Who’s that?

Who’s that? *Harry stares at her* It’s your brain. Don’t you know?

No. *Betsy considers* But the voice does sound strangely familiar.

OF COURSE MY VOICE IS FAMILIAR. YOU HAVE HEARD IT ALL OF YOUR LIFE.

Who are you? *Harry stands on his back legs, hands on hips* And why are you shouting?

Oops. Sorry. I am so powerful that I forget to tone it down sometimes.

Powerful? *Betsy frowns* How can you be powerful when you’re in my brain and I don’t even know you?

I thought we covered that. You know me.

Okay. *Betsy stands, dislodging Harry* I said your voice was familiar, but I have no idea who you are.

Well, I do hide. I kind of…lurk. Then I…nudge.

*Harry looks at Betsy* Nudge?

This way or that. *Voice sounds amused* Hither and yon.

*Betsy crosses arms* I’m not sure I like the idea of being nudged.

I would imagine you don’t. You normally hate me when you’re in your right mind. *giggles* But it so easy to get you out of your right mind. When you’re in your WRONG mind you do whatever I say.

*Betsy bites her lip* Harry? Harry, I’m scared.

*Harry stares up at her* I’m a freaking gerbil here. What the hell am I supposed to do?

*Betsy stamps her foot* You’re my Quest Guide, aren’t you? I think this is one of those obstacles you’re supposed to Guide me around or something.

Oh. Yeah. Right. *Harry clears his throat* Okay, so what the heck are you anyway, Voice?

What am I? I don’t know. *Sounds dreamy* Addiction. Compulsion.

Addiction? *Betsy’s voice squeaks* Like…like… food addiction?

Remember how you created “butter balls” when you were young?

*Harry looks at Betsy* Butter balls? What the heck are “Butter balls” Although, frankly, I’m not sure I want to know.

*Betsy gets a far-away look on her face* Ohhhh….White bread. Margerine. Squished in my fist. Margerine between my fingers. Sometimes, if I could sneak it, I used confectioners sugar. Mmmmm…

Okay, not exactly what I was picturing, but it sounds disgusting. *Harry shrugs* So, what did you have to do with all that, Voice?

Who do you think gave her the idea? And kept her at it? Then there were the pints of ice cream she sneaked into–

Stop! *Betsy holds up her hand* *Blushes* Not in front of Harry.

*Voice laughs nastily*

*Harry puffs up his little body to try to look bigger* So, what’s all this about, Voice? This just a trip down memory lane or something?

No, my little Guide. This was a demonstration.

Demonstration? *Betsy looks around nervously* Demonstration of what?

You think you want to move forward? You think you want to get out of your rut? Well, I like your rut just fine the way it is.

*Harry struts forward* Oh, yeah? She’s got a Guide now, buddy.

Yes, she has a Guide. And the first time tragedy struck, she turned to me. Just like she always does.

I wasn’t thinking right! *Betsy wipes away tears* Don’t you take my sweet Emily and my sweet Oliver and make them something you can use! Don’t you do that!

I already did. I sang to you of their loss, and you turned to me. You followed my Voice. Like always.

I didn’t know! *Betsy stands defiant*

You knew.

Well, I sure as hell didn’t know. *Harry runs up Betsy’s side and perches on her shoulder* And now we both do. Now I know I need to watch out.

You may see me….you may not. I swim through this brain and sing my songs. Night and day, I am the one…

This is MY brain. *Betsy fists her hands on her hips* This is MY BRAIN! And you are not welcome here, Voice!

You’re going to throw me out? Well, you can try. I’ll just come back later.

Get out. Get out now!

Are you sure?

GET OUT! *Betsy and Harry scream it together.

Very well. See ya….or not.

*silence*

*Betsy pants* *Looks at Harry perched on shoulder* I’m sorry.

*Harry pats her cheek with a paw* It’s okay, doll. We both know what we’re up against now.

Do we? *Betsy chews on her lip* I’m not sure.

Well, regardless of this Voice thing, you know that you need to start writing again. Right? *Harry glares at her sternly*

Yes. *Betsy nods* Looks down* And the Voice was right. I guess I knew I was making excuses to eat and not do my work.

You’re only human, doll. But let’s get going.

Can I shower first? The sugar I have sticking all over my body is icky. And I might attract ants.

Of course. *Harry jumps down to the floor* And I’ll get the Muse propped up with a cup of coffee.

*Betsy nods* Sounds like a plan. *Smiles* Thanks for coming to get me.

Any time, kiddo.

But is that the end? Has the Voice gone for good? Has Betsy thrown it out of her brain? Only time will tell…

To be continued…

May 21, 2014
Sugar-Coated

Previously on Betsy’s Blog…

When Betsy loses two of her beloved cats within six weeks of each other due to cancer, Harry, Betsy’s Quest Guide, leaves her alone for a little while to grieve. However, when he returns to Betsy’s brain, he’s disturbed to find molecules of sugar and chemicals flying around everywhere and Betsy’s Muse sound asleep on a ratty sofa pushed into a corner. Talking to the Muse causes more concern. Harry knew Betsy was a wreck, but he finds out she hasn’t written anything at all since he’s been gone. Harry and the Muse both know that writing will help Betsy work through her emotions, but Betsy doesn’t seem to know that. In fact, Harry begins to suspect that Betsy might have gotten herself completely derailed.

Another wave of sugar and chemicals hits, sending the Muse into a sound sleep. Harry makes a dash for Betsy’s temporal lobe to see if he can figure out what’s going on. What will he find?

Betsy!

HELLO.

*Harry skids to a halt and stares* Who the hell are you?

*The shadows shift* *The ganglia wiggle*

*silence*

Huh. Weird. Better find Betsy. Betsy? Where are you?

…because….the world is round….it turns me on….

Betsy! *Harry leaps forward again* Where are you?

…because….the world….is….round….aaaaahhhhhhhh

And why the hell are you singing a Beatles song? *Harry pushes aside some cells* Great googly moogly Betsy’s sprawled all over her brain like a limp noodle.

…because…the wind is high….it blows my mind….

For God’s sake, stop singing. Especially that freaking song. *Harry jumps on Betsy’s chest and prods her with his little paws* What in the world have you done to yourself, woman?

love is all…love is new….*cough* Harry? Harry is that you? *Betsy blinks sugar-encrusted eyelashes*

Of course it’s me, you moron. What are you doing?

It’s so good to see you. *Betsy smiles goofily, then frowns* What do you mean, what am I doing?

What have you done to yourself? *Harry slaps her across the cheek* Snap out of it!

Ow! *Betsy puts hand to cheek* I’m just laying here. I’m allowed to lay here. It’s MY brain. I’m allowed to hide in it if I wanna.

*Harry settles back on his hind legs* The last time we talked you were all motivated. You were gonna be an indie publisher. You were gonna be an authorpreneur. You were gonna write, damn it.

*Betsy looks away* But then Emily died, and…

I know she did doll. *Harry tilts Betsy’s head back with a gentle paw* I’m sorry.

*Betsy blinks* Thank you.

But what happened? *Harry looks around* *notices that the entire temporal lobe is covered in layers and layers of sugar* What have you been doing?

*Betsy looks away again* Eating.

Betsy! *Harry sighs* You KNOW that doesn’t help. You KNOW the sugar and fats and all of the chemicals in the food just make you crazy. You KNOW it’s not going to do anything but make you feel worse.

I know. *Betsy sniffles* But when I eat the sugar and the fats and the pastries and all of the things I’m not supposed to eat then I can escape from everything for a little while.

But it’s only a little while. And then your blood sugar is out of control and you crash. Besides, it’s poison for you! It’s like you’re poisoning yourself!

Maybe. *Betsy blushes* But it feels good at first.

*Harry sighs* Does it feel good now?

No. *Betsy frowns* I feel kind of crappy, to tell the truth.

Are you ready to stop eating the way you have been?

*Betsy picks at the fabric of her blouse* It’s not that easy.

What do you mean? *Harry starts to pace* You feel crappy. You know that writing will help. So you stop eating badly, you stop poisoning yourself, and you write instead. Instead of escaping through food, you escape through writing. Easy.

*Betsy looks at Harry, eyes wide and frightened* *whispers* I hear ice cream.

*Harry blinks* Huh?

I hear ice cream. And pastries. And brownies. And chocolate. And cheesecake. And larger than advisable portions of food that would otherwise be considered halfway decent. I…I want to stop eating like this. I swear to you. I’ve tried! But I hear them singing to me in my DREAMS! Calling me! Telling me to come to them. *sobs*

*Harry settles* I don’t get it.

*Betsy sits up* *gazes furtively around the brain* *whispers even more softly* I started eating badly when Emily died. I just wanted to escape. I just wanted to numb my brain for a little bit. Can you blame me? CAN YOU?

Uh…

And now I can’t stop eating. I start out the day doing okay. I do. Honest. I have things under control. Then around three o’clock… *Betsy swallows* It all goes to hell and I end up here. Stretched out in my brain. Covered in sugar. Singing “Because”.

Wow. Huh. *Harry starts to get up*

You can’t leave me. *Betsy clutches at him* I know you’re just a gerbil, but you’re all I’ve got. You have to help me break this.

*Harry shakes his little head* Well, I know you’ve got to break this, doll, but I’m not sure–

You have to help me! *Betsy squeezes Harry with both hands* You have to! I’ll never become an authorpreneur if I don’t get this under control. I can’t keep losing time like this! I can’t…I can’t…I’M NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER!

Okay, okay. *Harry struggles and finally breaks free* *smooths down his coat* *itches at his ear* Sheesh. You’re right, okay?

*Betsy blinks tear-filled eyes* I am?

Yeah. There’s no way you’ll become an authorpreneur if you keep up this way. You need to get over this…this…food addiction or the next time you hit a bad spot you’re going to end up flat on your back in your temporal lobe singing “Because”.

*Betsy tries to hug him* I knew you’d understand!

*Harry evades her outstretched arms* Okay, so, first of all. Who else is in here?

*Betsy blinks* Who else? Nobody.

*Harry shakes his head* I know I heard somebody else in here.

*Betsy frowns* No. Seriously. It’s just me.

I don’t–

BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*Betsy looks around her brain* Who’s that?

To be continued…

May 18, 2014
Derailed?

Previously on Betsy’s Blog…

Betsy and Harry, her Quest Guide, determined that the first step Betsy needs to take to become a successful indie author is to write more. They also discussed Betsy’s production schedule and decided Betsy would finish the first draft of her work in progress by May 11. Unfortunately, in the meantime Betsy experienced a heartbreaking loss.

But now we are left to wonder – has Betsy been able to write at all? Has her grief blown her schedule completely out of the water? Is her life totally off track? And why is her trash can full of empty ice cream containers and plastic cheesecake trays? Why are more and more sugar molecules zipping through Betsy’s brain?

Join us as Harry tries to figure out what’s up with Betsy…

*snore* *grumble* *snore*

Geeze, is that the Muse? *Harry scampers closer to an old, ratty, pull-out sofa shoved into a corner of Betsy’s brain* *pulls himself up on a cushion so he can see the face of the sleeping woman* Oh, man. It is her. Muse? *reaches out with a paw and pokes the Muse in the face* Wake up.

*grumble* *snort* *Muse blinks eyes open* *pushes herself up on her elbow* *looks down at Harry* Oh. Hey. *collapses back on the sofa*

You gotta get up. *Harry pokes her again*

Can’t. Too. Tired.

Well, get over it! *Harry climbs on Muse’s chest and glares down into her face* You should be helping Betsy write.

*Muse swats at Harry, but he jumps away* Too bad.

Whaddya mean, too bad? *Harry sits back on hind legs* *folds forelegs across chest* We’ve got goals. A schedule. I mean, I know she’s been through a lot lately and she’s a total wreck–

*Muse turns her head away* Poor little kitty.

–and that’s only to be expected. But we have to get her working again. You and I both know that writing is going to help. You saw how much better she felt after writing Sunday’s blog post. She NEEDS to write or she’s gonna go nuts!

*Muse props herself up on her elbows again* Look, I know that, and you know that, but SHE doesn’t seem to know that.

*Harry frowns* She doesn’t? What’s going on?

*Muse rolls her eyes* Oh, come on. Don’t be stupid. You live in this brain too.

Well, I know she’s been grieving. *Harry shrugs uncomfortably* I’ve kind of stayed away, if you want to know the truth. I hate it when a chick cries. I never know what to say.

Oh, GREAT! *Muse flops back on the sofa and stares at the ceiling of the brain* The one time she needs a freaking Guide and you run away. Such a typical man.

Hey! I’m a gerbil here! *Harry paces back and forth on Muse’s chest* So you’re telling me she’s still all screwed up?

Well, duh. *Muse yawns hugely* Uh oh. Here comes another dose of sugar and chemicals. She’s self-medicating again. I’ll be asleep in… a… second…

*Harry stares at her* What the hell are you talking about?

Go to the *yawn* temporal lobe…and…see…. *snore*

Huh. *Harry pokes at the Muse* *Muse grumbles and turns on her side* *Harry jumps nimbly to the floor before he gets squashed* Darn it, what the heck has Betsy gotten herself into now?

*Harry ducks flying molecules of sugar and chemicals and serotonin* *Floor of brain begins to quake and then break apart*

What the heck? *Harry grabs onto the basal ganglia to keep his footing* *Electrical sparks fly from cell to cell* Oh my gosh! *Harry makes a break for the temporal lobe* Betsy! Betsy, what’s going on? Betsy!

*Harry makes a leap down a neural pathway* *dives into temporal lobe* *comes to a skidding halt* *stares*

Betsy?

HELLO.

Who the hell are you?

To be continued….

May 14, 2014
A Production Schedule

Previously on Betsy’s Blog…

Betsy has had several conversations with Harry, the mythical creature sent by the International Muse Council to guide her towards her dreams. Harry happens to be a white gerbil with aspirations for a promotion. Surprisingly, he’s also proving to be quite a bit of help. He has already helped Betsy identify the goal of her Quest – she wants to be an indie author. Next, he helped her to identify her first step – she has to write. But that’s a pretty self- explanatory first step, so how should she really get started? Let’s join Betsy and Harry now as they sit together on a sprawling sectional sofa in Betsy’s brain to discuss the matter.

*Harry tries to get into a comfortable position* Can you prop that pillow behind my back? Thanks. *Leans back with hind feet sprawled out in front of him.* Now, what were we talking about?

A production schedule. *Betsy frowns* I don’t get it. This is writing. I’m a writer. That’s freaking ART! Why are you talking about a production schedule like I’m making…making…donuts!

Because you need a freaking schedule. *Harry pulls a tiny remote control from a hidden pocket in his fur* *Points it at the wall-screen and clicks* *A graph appears*

Wait! When did you get that big ass monitor?

Coupla days ago. It’ll be on your next credit card statement. ANYways, we have to talk about production schedules even though what you’re doing is all arty and crap.

Why? *Betsy tries not to think about her credit card statement* So I want to be an indie author. So I write. Simple.

Well, yeah. It’s simple if you only want to do it as a hobby. Then who freaking cares if you ever get a book out, right? It’s like your grandma crocheting another freaking afghan. Who cares if she finishes?

Huh. *Betsy thinks* Okay, I think I understand. You’re saying I should have a schedule. Of production.

*Harry rolls his eyes* Sheesh you’re a freaking genius. Listen, you’re telling me you want whatever you do to be all about the writing, right?

Right.

But even so it doesn’t sound like you want this to be a hobby. You want to take this writing gig seriously, right?

Right! *Betsy nods her head decisively*

So, what you really want to be is kinda an “authorpreneur”.

Authorpre….huh?

*Harry shrugs* New buzzword. It means you’re an author and an entrepreneur. You want your writing to be a business. Right?

*Betsy thinks* Right. I want to treat it as a business. I want to take it seriously.

Then you need a schedule. You need deadlines. You need to make promises, and, more importantly, you need to keep them.

*Betsy crosses arms* *Glares at chart* I still don’t see what this has to do with art. I should be able to write when I feel like it.

Bull pucky! See the chart? *Harry gestures towards the screen* You need to keep writing and publishing if you want people to read your books.

Well, I KNOW that.

And how many books are you going to write if you don’t have deadlines?

*Betsy pouts* I’ll write if I don’t have deadlines, Mr. Wisenheimer.

Riiiiiiight. Pardon me for asking, but how many books have you finished since your book got published?

Shut up.

See? Deadlines. Schedules. Goals.

Oh, all right.

*Harry pulls his G-Pad computer tablet from another pocket and boots up* Okay. When do you think the revised first draft of the book you’re working on will be finished?

*Betsy squirms* I wanted to have it finished today.

*Harry looks up at her and is suddenly wearing glasses* And is it finished today?

*Betsy squirms some more* No. I fell asleep!

Uh huh. *Harry makes some notes* A feeble excuse, but I know you have indeed been working on it. *Looks at Betsy over glasses* How about we shoot to have it finished by the end of next week?

*Betsy picks at the threads of the seat cushion* Okay.

*Harry makes notes* And to the beta readers / proofreaders by the end of the month.

*Betsy goggles at him* Are you insane?

*Harry frowns* Are you an authorpreneur?

I…I….*blows out breath* Okay.

Good. *Harry nods* And I also want you to have the next book basically plotted out. Preferably the next two books.

*Betsy thinks* Okay, I understand. I have to set a schedule of when I want to release these books. I have to set deadlines for them. And then I have do everything I can to meet these deadlines even though I’m the one who set them, right?

*Harry beams at her* Perfect.

Because, *Betsy says slowly* If I make deadlines and keep them, then it’s like I’m making promises to myself and my readers and keeping my promises. It’s like I’m professional. Like my writing is a business.

*Harry’s smile grows wider* Right.

It’s like I’ll be taking actual, tangible steps towards making my dreams real. Right?

Yes.

*Betsy looks at chart* *Looks at Harry* So, production schedules and deadlines are good.

Very good.

And the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.

*Harry’s smile becomes a beam of sunlight and his fur glows a startling white*

Exactly.

To Be Continued…

May 4, 2014
First Steps

Previously on Betsy’s Blog…

Betsy met an albino gerbil named Harry, who just happens to be her official Guide for her Quest. The problem? She didn’t know what her Quest was! Although Harry was disgusted by this lack of self-awareness, he helped her weed through her writing goals to see what she really wants to accomplish. With Harry’s help, Betsy realized she wants to self-publish (or indie publish, if you will).

But where does she go from here? This question has been haunting Betsy for days – nay, weeks. Let’s join Betsy and Harry in Betsy’s brain as they discuss the first steps.

*whirr, whirr, whirr, whirr*

Harry, get off that damn wheel and come talk to me. *Betsy frowns over at the huge gerbil habitat with its various turrets and towers* *she sits down on the large sofa and spreads some papers out on the coffee table* And turn off ESPN. We need to talk.

Jeeze, I’m right here, doll. *pant, pant* Can’t we talk after my *pant* workout?

No. *Betsy picks up a stack of printouts neatly stapled together* *leafs through the papers*

Crap. Okay. *Harry jumps nimbly off wheel to the top of a tower* *picks up towel laying there and drapes it around his neck* *wipes face* What’s up?

Now that I know I want to be an indie author, there’s so freaking much to learn! *Betsy holds up wads of papers in both hands* I mean, look at all of this! There’s so much information!

Yeah? Let’s see. *Harry jumps off tower onto arm of sofa and scrambles over to crouch on coffee table* *peers down at papers* Hmmm Uh huh. Okay.

See what I mean? *Betsy fists hands in her hair and pulls* What the heck am I supposed to do first?

*Harry squints up at her* What do you mean?

What do I mean! *Betsy gets up and begins to pace rapidly around brain* I mean, do I build my author platform? Or sign up with a publicity firm? How do I market? How are ebooks formatted? What about cover art? Do I hire somebody? Do I try to do it myself? How do you even use Photoshop? Do I try to upload the book to all of the different platforms or do I hire somebody else to do it or use an aggregator? How do I find an editor? How????

Easy now.

*Betsy whirls to confront Harry* And what about visibility, for God’s sake! WHAT ABOUT VISIBILITY!

Whoa. *Harry holds up paws in a placating gesture* You’re scaring me a little bit. First of all, breathe. In…and out…

*Betsy gulps at air* Okay.

Now. Sit down. *Harry jumps over to the sofa and pats the cushion*

*Betsy sits* Okay.

I’m your freaking Guide, right? I’m helping you out on this freaking Quest, right?

*Betsy breathes* Right.

Damn right. So, tell me. How many books do you have finished? Like ready to go.

Now?

No. Next year. Yeah, now.

*Betsy thinks* Um…one. And another book is almost finished.

Great, great. *Harry rolls his eyes* So, what exactly are you thinking you’re going to be publishing?

Now?

YES! NOW!

Um…hmmm… *Betsy thinks* Well, the book that’s done is already published… *Betsy thinks* Umm…I guess…nothing?

RIGHT! So, it seems to me that maybe, just maybe, just possibly right at the moment you should be concentrating on finishing a SECOND FREAKING BOOK and not on any of that other crap.

*Betsy thinks* Finish…the book? Huh. First?

YES! FINISH THE DAMN BOOK!

Before I worry about publishing?

YES! YES! YES! *Harry jumps up and down, flailing his little fists in the air*

*Betsy thinks* But finishing the books is kind of…hard.

*Harry takes a deep breath* *settles back on sofa* I know it is, doll.

And the Muse has been sleeping an awful lot lately.

So maybe you need to wake her up.

*Betsy thinks* Wake up the Muse. And… write?

*Harry wipes sweat from brow* Damn this is exhausting. YES!

*Betsy thinks* Huh. Well….if you’re sure….

I’m freaking sure!

And you don’t think I need to find an editor?

Not until the book is finished.

*Betsy thinks* And you ARE my Guide.

Trust me, doll.

I do. *Betsy straightens shoulders* Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll WRITE!

Great. *Harry jumps to coffee table* *picks up very tiny mai tai* *sips* Now we can get started.

*Betsy blinks at him* Started? Whatever do you mean?

To be continued…

April 30, 2014
Freedom

Previously on Betsy’s Blog….

Harry, Betsy’s albino gerbil Quest Guide, has sent Betsy away to think about her writing. They need to identify the true nature of her quest before they set out. Otherwise how will they know when they get there? Now, after a short break for Easter, they’ve gotten together again and are sitting together on the Ikea sofa in Betsy’s brain to see if they can decide what they’re doing.

*Harry spits out a sunflower seed and perches on the arm of the sofa, wrapping his tail around his body* So, did you do some thinking about the writing and your quest and all that crap?

Yes. *Betsy looks demure* I’ve decided that this is my quest; to follow that star. No matter how hopeless. No matter how far.

Oh, jeeze! Am I going to have to suffer through Man of LaMancha jokes for the next friggin’ ever?

*Betsy smiles* Yes.

Great. ANYWAY, what did you decide?

Well, I’m not sure as far as the quest goes. I just know that I want to write on my own terms. I want to tell stories and I don’t want to be fake while I’m doing it.

Yeah, I GOT that. Sheesh. But do you want to write them and put the under a bushel? Whatever the heck a bushel is? Do you want to flush them down the toilet? Post them on trees?

I’d like them to be out there so other people I don’t know can read them.

Christ I’m going to need a drink after this is over. Okay. You want them to be published. And make money?

Well, I definitely want to publish. But the writing has to be the most important thing, or I’m not going to keep doing it.

I don’t even know what you’re talking about.

After HOLD ME was picked up by the publisher, all of a sudden I seemed to be focusing on selling instead of writing and I didn’t have a freaking clue what I was doing. “Everyone” was telling me that I had to do this to be successful, or do that, and if I didn’t do those things perfectly nobody would ever find my book and read it and I would be a big, huge, fat failure and die alone in the gutter. So instead of writing, I was spent all of my time on my website or social media or author groups where there’s a lot of comparison-itis and the whole time I felt inadequate and like an imposter and like I was back in high school and sitting alone at the cafeteria table because I wasn’t one of the popular girls and I HATED it. I spent months and months feeling like I was second or third or fortieth best, and it just got worse after my second book was rejected.

Yeah, I know what you mean. When I was in school there was this mouse…long story.

And then I had trouble getting back into writing again because I didn’t want to do all of that again because what the heck’s the point? I mean, I have a day job if I want to feel inadequate. I love writing, but the only way I could get enthusiastic about it again was to say the heck with everyone. I’m just going to do this writing thing my way and play and who cares what “everyone” says you should do or how much money you make? I’ve never fit in a mold my entire life, so it’s certainly not going to work now. I’m going to be an author my own way and the heck with everything. I’m not expecting to make money or have “visibility”, so if I don’t get them it’s not a big deal.

Okay, listen. I’ve got all of that. But what do you WANT out of this thing? Because if you don’t want something specific, you’re not going to work for it. Am I right?

Well–

Am. I. Right?

You’re right. *sigh* Okay, here’s what I really want. I want to write a book and publish it and write a book and publish it and so on. This is a business and I want to treat it like my business, but I also want to have fun while I’m doing it. I want to be in control and do it my own way.

Okay. *Harry settles back on his haunches* Then I think I can help you identify your quest.

You can?

You want to be an indie author. You want to self-publish.

I do?

Jesus, I’d better earn my rabbit ears for this one. Yes! Yes, you do!

Huh. *Betsy settles back* *contemplates* Indie author. Huh. I’d have to learn a lot. I’ve heard there’s a big learning curve for indie publishing.

Who cares?

Yeah. Who cares? I like to learn. *looks at Harry* Oh, my God. I’m going to indie publish. I’m going to be a self publisher. I’m going to take control of my career and my destiny and steer my ship wherever the hell I want to go. Aren’t I?

Aren’t WE.

Yeah. *Betsy beams* We.

Do you feel that breeze blowing through your brain?

Yes. What is it?

It’s the breeze of freedom. You’re your own writer, babe. And you can do whatever you damn well want.

Okay. *sob* Okay.

April 23, 2014