I have given myself a deadline of seven years in which I am to garner a book contract and a following of loyal fans. Lofty? Perhaps. I teeter back and forth categorizing myself between author or writer. I know what other people define those terms as but for me, author indicates someone who has written and published whereas a writer just writes and hasn’t sold anything yet. I have written and published non-fiction and poetry but not under this pseudonym so I don’t consider myself an “author” and I haven’t received any money for my works … yet.
So far, I’m relying heavily on social media to get my name out into the literary world. I currently have 158 followers on Twitter (yay me). I have started a Facebook page and this blog. This has left me very little time to devote to writing. But that’s okay. I need to recharge my creative batteries right now anyway. I joined Romance Writers of America in the hopes of networking with like-minded writers and authors. It’s a lot of work promoting oneself.
I’ve been considering self-publishing and I have talked with an author who has done that. She doesn’t have a full time job outside of writing, publishing and promotion. I do. There’s no way I can devote that much time to do all that and work a full time job. Not possible. Everything I do has to fit within my “down time”. And right now, I haven’t been particularly motivated. My emotions are across the board.
You see, tomorrow is the 2-year anniversary of my mother’s passing. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her terribly. It’s still difficult to believe that she’s gone. So much has happened in my life since she died. I find myself wanting to call her and tell her about my day. Some days I just want to lay my head in her lap and feel her stroke my hair. She always had a way of calming me down. I miss her.
As hard as it is on me, I can only imagine how difficult tomorrow will be for my dad. They were married for 60 years. They met when they were just kids. Not a fairytale romance by any stretch of the imagination and they didn’t have a rocky-free marriage (no one does). But they had a love like no other. Something I hope to aspire to in my own marriage.
I feel guilty because I was at work the day my mother died instead of being at the hospital with her. She had been in and out a lot and we knew the time was nearing. One of my co-workers even scolded me for being there instead of being with her. I come by guilt naturally so it doesn’t take much to pile it on. I reached the hospital after work and six minutes later, she was gone. She had slipped into a coma a few days before and never came to. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t get to tell her that I loved her. Even now, the emotions are overwhelming.
Towards the end, she was in so much pain. The dialysis had taken its toll on her. She was one gigantic bruise. She suffered so much and lashed out at everyone. It was emotionally draining on my dad. It was physically exhausting. He was her sole caretaker. He did everything for her: cooked, cleaned, laundry, beds, showering, dressing … everything to make her as comfortable as she could be.
I am grateful that she is no longer in pain and I know she’s in a better place. I also know that I will see her again. But that doesn’t comfort my aching heart from missing her like crazy. I love you mom.
2 thoughts on “Starting from the Bottom”
I’m sorry to hear about your mum. You don’t need to feel guilty – she knew you loved her – that’s what is important.
Good luck with self-publishing.
I’ve been traditionally published with Hodder & Stoughton and then turned indie. Gosh, there is so much to do with marketing/promotion. Exhilirating, yes. And you’re totally in charge. But I don’t have a day job, otherwise I couldn’t do it.
Self-published writers who have a full-time job, write novels AND promote are in the trenches! I so, so admire them.
And, yes, your site is PURPLE!
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Thank you for your words of encouragement. I miss her every day. She was the one person growing up that could motivate me to excel. She was quite a handful towards the end. I hope that she forgave me for not being as patient as I wish I had been.