I overslept this morning. It was because I’m always hyper after writing, and I wrote about high school basketball last night. It provides a little spending money. It gets me out the house, where I hole up, writing, reading, watching TV, and playing guitar, along with non-creative activities such as washing dishes and clothes, and paying and sending bills.
Miraculously, I often find time to post and tweet, and even read other posts and tweets. It’s not really writing, is it? More like talking with fingers.
I did not climb out of bed with a burst of brilliance. The answering machine was beeping. My nephew needed a ride to work. Check. I put on some coffee and headed out the door. The Christmas Parade was starting. Getting him to work was like navigating through a naval blockade, only Vince and I were in a pickup truck.
When I got back home, I noticed there was no mug in the coffee machine. It was still sitting on the bar. The small towel underneath the Hamilton-Beach was tinted brown. I little steam rose from it. Putting down the towel was a good move, but it wasn’t this morning so it cannot be cited in defense of my negligence.
I scratched my head, felt thankful for the absence of a major mess, took a wasted K-cup out, put a new one in, and successfully managed to revive myself fully with a hot mug. Now I’m on a hot streak. I’m writing a blog and have already successfully cooked and eaten breakfast.
The day obviously has no limits.
I just looked up and Texas is leading Baylor, 10-0, so I’m not the only one in America who is off to a slow start.
That would have been a great way to end this blog, but I don’t know when to stop. Persistent. That is I. I ramble too much, too. To two and beyond. En garde! I may use there and their. I may ensure that my insurance is up to date. Don’t divert your attention lest I wax both literal and figurative, only to consult a modern dictionary and find they are one and the same.
Am I not lighthearted and irreverent? Why, perchance?
Late last night, I discovered that an email I had been nervously awaiting had arrived, hours earlier, in fact, while I was sitting on the first row of a rolled-out grandstand watching Red Devils being waylaid by Raiders, even though, theoretically, Raiders would have difficulty raiding their home court. They were well-trained combatants, capable of shifting tactics on the fly.
I get home. I write the story. I reexamine what the coaches had to say. Then I watch high-school football highlights — Spartanburg and Byrnes were both eliminated in the playoffs, for gosh sakes — a Stephen Colbert rerun comes on, and I laugh at a few jokes that are still funny after six weeks or so — but, aw, hell, why not check the Twitter and the Facebook? See what’s … all atwitter.
Holy cow. I mean Longhorn. Texas is now up, 17-0, on the Bears. In Waco! Huh. Baylor, of course, could score four touchdowns in the second quarter, but it appears there is something worth watching, and all I got for Saturday morning was this stupid blog and a brown towel. Texas just kicked off into the Baylor band behind the end zone.
This is the thirteenth graph. It’s time to get to the point. Look at the bright side. It’s a Russian novel, only shorter.
My completed novel, Forgive Us Our Trespasses, is going to be my new novel because, like Crazy of Natural Causes, my third, it is a KindleScout winner, which, in turn, means that, after gauging the support of people who nominated it on a website, much with my approval and encouragement, insightful editors have evaluated my manuscript and deemed it worthy of their production and support.
I got an email on November 24 noting that the nomination period — in which they examine what readers think — had ended and that I would be notified of their decision “within a few business days.” Business was apparently good. I got word on a Friday night while I was watching basketball. In their defense, it was earlier out west, where the great Amazon River of the Internet flows. I was worried about virtual crocs and piranhas.
As an author, particularly one who, by necessity, imagines things, I brooded over why it was taking so much time. They didn’t summarily reject it. They already published one of mine. No doubt they were in deep consideration of how best to capitalize on my considerable talents.
Or, perhaps, they were considering how best to pass along the “while we believe your manuscript has considerable merit, it just doesn’t fit our plans at the moment” message. Nah. No one in publishing, from hardcover to Kindle, should have any difficulty with that.
It was on my mind. It even made me sick, though I don’t really think the shivering beneath a blanket was psychosomatic. I spent a week trying to be cheerful, cracking nervous jokes, ruminating, and taking my mind off my worry by writing chapters of the next e-product on the e-assembly line, a modern western called Cowboys Come Home (italics await completion and publication, for which there will undoubtedly be at least one forthcoming blog marked by e-gnashing of e-teeth).
And did I mention I’ve been dieting? Nothing relieves tension like a nice, cool tub of sugar-free lemon Jell-O. God, I’ll never lust for pecan pie again.
Well, if I didn’t shock you with The Audacity of Dope, or make you say “well, my word” about The Intangibles, or get you to agonize over whether you loved or hated Chance Benford in Crazy of Natural Causes, get ready for Forgive Us Our Trespasses because it’s the biggest humdinger yet, and you can still read an excerpt here: https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/A20FEF33PZP1
A better way to gear up for Trespasses, and a cost-effective one at a mere $3.49, would be for you to download Crazy of Natural Causes here: http://www.amazon.com/Crazy-Natural-Causes-Monte-Dutton-ebook/dp/B00YI8SWUU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1436215069&sr=1-1&keywords=Crazy+of+Natural+Causes
Don’t forget the first two novels or the non-fiction books I wrote before I rode off into the fiction sunset: http://www.amazon.com/Monte-Dutton/e/B005H3B144/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1416767492&sr=8-1