Can you please explain this to me? Can you please sit me down in a chair, one that doesn’t face the window, because I’m obviously easily distracted, and use small words, because clearly I’m a bit dim in the “I get it” department, and tell me what is going on?
How can I have 35 likes of a WordPress post but not a single view? How is that possible? Are the views phantom? Are the likes, like, from mice or something? What about dislikes? How… how does that work?
And answer me this, smarty-pants. How is that I can decide that I’m going to create and run what is turning out to be a terrifically labor-intensive website, because, if you’re going to do something, you should do it right, a website that will provide myself with A) a writing platform and 2) a sustainable, recession-proof income, and III) hopefully make possible the same sort of potential for other writers, and yet still think about working on another novel? And, yes, I am aware of that terrible sentence. Got it. Thank you.
And, here I am, thick in the middle (pun intended) of creating Skippity Whistles (please notice the link) and what pops up but an earlier version of Marigold’s End (please notice the link), one that’s clever and charming, and, with a little rewrite, is a lovely work of art? It’s quite good.
Plus, Marigold’s End and this book, The Diary of Phineas Caswell, tell more or less the same story, so you can’t just change the character names and pass it off…
So, now that I’ve decided to create and build Skippity Whistles, committed my writing engine to it lock stock and handlebars, here comes my wife, saying “you should write another sailing novel, one for the adult reader. And here are some character ideas…” My wife has never, EVER, suggested that I write a novel. Actually, that’s not true… and I’m researching the last suggestion she made.
Explain it to me, please? Please? PULEEEEZE?
I know the answer. So do you. But how can you do all these things, plus work a full time job, plus parent a kid through high school, plus carry a major role in a community theater play, and still have hair?
Hermoine from Harry Potter makes copies of herself. So does every lame-brain sitcom scientist, scatterheaded superhero, and magically artificially empowered flunky. Fortunately, those folks are all fictitious.
My wonderful sister the psychologist says Yes And. Yes, I’ll have this And I’ll have that. Why limit yourself? Do both? I do this, yes, and that. If it were both, that’d be okay. In this case it’s I do this, and this, and this, and this, and this, and sleep? No, not that.
In truth, I really want to write another novel. You’re a writer, you know that feeling, when the words just start flowing and you sort out the puzzle of your mind. Nothing, nothing like it.
In truth, I really want to get Skippity Whistles running, because that’s money. While a novel might sell (haven’t so far), this website will.
Above it all, hovering like the Sword of Damocles, is Time. Time the slayer. Time the grayer. Time, the grand equalizer. Every second I dither over what to do is a second lost to eternity, never to be retrieved. Lost. I’ll think about this tomorrow. Time cackles.
Time…
How many projects have you started, my friend? I’m terribly proud both of Marigold’s End and Droppington Place (notice the links), not because they are great works of art, but because I finished them. Decided enough is enough, and, having failed to gain the support of a literary agent, published them myself. Done. In the face of Time.
So, you can see the conundrum… Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait… I’ve got it!
Marigold’s End is out there, and has clearly not set the literary world ablaze. Who cares about that book?
The Diary of Phineas Caswell tells a similar story – it can be cleaned up – maybe that will light the torch? Yes, yes that’s a good plan. Okay, that’s solved. Must every novel be a different story line? Don’t they remake movies?
At the same time, why not work on Skippity Whistles? Play less solitaire, work a little harder. Wait, what? You’re a writer, you know that blogging and novel writing take different headspaces. Skippity is technical writing, which I do in my sleep (ask my boss).
A new novel? Reworking Phineas won’t take forever. Once that’s done…
Thank you, my friend, thank you. You have helped me sort out this most terrible puzzle.
Now, if you could just explain about the likes…
John D Reinhart 