The past year has been a year of changes--some good, some bad--for just about everyone I know.
After deciding on a career path, going back to school (while working full time), my wife was accepted into nursing school and successfully completed her first semester. Yay! Then her job was outsourced so people with more money than they know what to do with could afford another ivory back-scratcher. Boo!
My house became officially diaper and pacifier free. Both children are now in their own rooms and their brains have become Johny Five style super computers, absorbing every bit of input available. Needless to say, we can no longer watch Family Guy, Futurama, and certain Simpsons episodes while they are awake.
As far as my writing goes, it was the year I said goodbye to traditional publishing and jumped on the indie bandwagon. I self published Guarding the Healer at the end of May and Contemplations of Dinner just a few days ago. I upped my virtual presence in the digi-sphere in a valiant attempt to self promote my work. I'm a blogger, a Facebooker, Goodreader, and even a Tweeter. If you would have called me that ten years ago I probably would have taken it as an insult.
I also wrote another novel titled Predatory Animals. I know several people wrote novels (sometimes two or three) but this means a lot to me because after a long time of seeking an agent, I had lost my love of writing. Those of you that have traveled the Traditional Path know what I mean. You pour all you have into a novel, spending several months or even years just to perfect it, then your only hope of landing a publishing contract is to convince an agent to take you on. But you can't query all of them at once. At most ten. Six months go by and half don't even bother to respond. Three say they like it but don't feel "passionate" about it. The other two ask for a partial read, hold the manuscript for another four months to six months only to send you a form rejection letter. Then you have to start all over again with another group of agents. If you are lucky, you sign with an agent and the same mess starts all over with publishers.
What insane person wants to go through that?
Self publishing changed all of that. It set me free and the words started flowing again.
It's been one of the strangest years for me in memory. Not a bad one by any means. I'm thankful for another year with my family and friends and I'm looking forward to 2012.
Happy New Year!
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