Yeah, hi. Been a while—but look what I finally did.
It’s a funny thing when you finally let go of a story that has consumed you for the better part of a decade. I’ve been creating and re-creating this same story for so long that I didn’t think I’d ever let another soul have a gander. So much time. So much of me. I don’t do well with the rejection of my soul. At least I figure I won’t. Thinking about it gives me heart palpitations. But that’s normal, right? Not just the ’tism?
I tried the traditional route. Like everyone else out there with a story and a dream, I loaded my laptop with software meant to woo the likes of literary agents and publishers. And that was a soul-sucking ride.
“Check out my MSWL” they’d say. This I learned was their manuscript wishlist. And so off I go to their page. I read the damn thing and it’s a perfect match. I’m giddy and moonwalking around my living room that this is the one. How easy it was to find my soul agent.
What a moron I was.
I’d spend 2 hours researching (internet stalking?) them and then tailoring a letter only to be rejected a month or two later. Or not at all.
I’m still waiting for some to this day. A year later.
I sent about 40 or 50 of those letters. Nothing, in the grand scheme of things. I have friends who didn’t land an agent until they were hundreds in. Hundreds! But those 40 or 50 were spread out over a year of my life. And I don’t have years to spare. It was completely disheartening. That industry is no longer what it once was.
Don’t come for me, but I no longer believe that you need any of them to be a successful published author. I’ve seen authors out there do some pretty amazing things. All on their own.
And maybe my novel is good. I mean, my dad likes it. Ha ha ha ha. Yes, I know that’s messed up.
So, here we are then. You’re all caught up to the day I said f*ck it. F*ck that, f*ck them, f*ck it.
I did it myself.
Here’s my novel. If you enjoy make-believe and don’t mind that an old weirdo wrote a book and then published it by herself, please consider buying it. (I did hire a professional editor some time back to read through, so it shouldn’t be complete crap. Fingers crossed.) If you have Kindle Unlimited, it’s free. If you do buy it, and you read it, and when you get to the end of it, you actually liked it. Leave a review. Say nice things. Think of my heart.
This old weirdo would appreciate it.
Available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle. FREE on Kindle Unlimited. (If you are outside the U.S. search the title in your country’s Amazon page.)
And also, coming soon to a bookstore near you. When I figure that sh*t out.
UberScribbler 
Self-sabotage in the words of… Phillip?
You know when you’re sitting around in the car waiting for someone, and you’re so bored that you start going through your Facebook newsfeed on your phone—clicking on all the posts that you didn’t give a frac about earlier in the day? Yeah, well that was me yesterday. Sitting alone in the dark, playing Russian roulette with strangers posts.
First, let me clarify, I don’t normally click posts (even in extreme boredom) that look sketchy or are likely to piss me off. So, here was the link to an Upworthy video, titled: Homosexuality Is An Annoying Thing Someone Invented, So This Group Of Americans Is Un-Inventing It and I’m thinking—I don’t even want to know what that’s about. So instead, I skim the comments, ’cause there’s plenty of those and I can be a bit of a comment whore. I mean, who isn’t, right? I’m pretty sure that’s what makes Tumblr an up-and-coming social juggernaut.
I should also clarify, I did not actually watch the video that bunched up all the knickers of the commenters, I guess I wasn’t that bored. Or maybe I just didn’t care enough. (Maybe you do, so go find it here.) Sometimes it’s just fun to start with nothing and then build the story backwards from the comments. You have to have a fairly good understanding of comment player ratios though. I mean, how many of the educated versus uneducated, the douchebags versus the do-gooders and that sort of thing. (I affectionately refer to this as the science of Trollology.) It puts comments in perspective.
While I may be a comment voyeur—somewhere in the forever alone statistics, “Phillip” is a comment activist. A rare contributor. (Since I have no comprehension of Bulgarian—written or otherwise—Phillip is what I’m calling him. )
Any comment that starts with “Woah there!” on its own line… has my attention. I mean, Woah where? What’s happening? Who pissed you off? Tell me everything. I must know. (Because I’m sitting here in my truck with nothing better to do at the moment.)
And while I silently expected to be entertained with emotional trite—Phillip had me. He understood the basic underlying issue in all LGBTQ discussion. (In fact, most people issues, full stop.) He’s identified the chipped corner on the building blocks of all we know of each other today. The fact that we did this to ourselves. No, really. If we want to make things better, we need to stop pointing out differences—primarily our own. Just stop. Don’t be different. Just… BE.
Here’s his excerpt, and just for the sake of his own protection and anonymity (on the internet? Pishaw! Well, at least on this blog.) I obstructed part of his name.
What do you think? Does that make sense to you? Does it make you angry? Serious? Are you emotionless? I’d really like to know. (I’d also like to update my pie chart with current stats.)
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Tagged as bias, comments, gender, gender equality, homosexual, labels, LGBT, LGBTQ, memes, upworthy