I wrote a book. I called it Mumma Shana. No one wanted to read it. I couldn’t find a publisher or literary agent to save my life. Maybe my book was never meant to be published. I got so tired of querying literary agents only to be turned down. I began to think I was chasing the cat up the proverbial wrong tree. Why, though, was so much of my time and energy poured into that project if it was just meant to sit in my closet and collect dust? Was this all to be some kind of grand learning experience for me? I refused to accept that.
I willed and willed my manuscript to find its way into the right hands. I maintained positive thoughts and believed that the right agent would pick it up - The Law of Attraction and all that. It didn’t happen. Was this the effect of allowing those negative thoughts to bite at me when I wasn’t looking? Had too much of those unwelcome thoughts seeped into my consciousness or was it something else? I didn’t know the answer to that but I DID know that my book was meant to be published.
I’m meant to write. I’ve always known this. I feel words swelling inside of me just aching for release and I breathe a sigh as they come forth from the center of my soul without any conscious thought. Every fiber of my being is alive and pulsing with energy as I write. It is an ever continuing cycle of need and release that feeds me. It is every writer’s dream to be published and yet, the goal to have this book published seemed unattainable. I packed my handwritten story into a box. Yes, I said handwritten. That’s a blog for another day.
I threw the box in the closet and went on with life. I journaled and rambled on paper through the years but nothing struck the chords of my soul like Mumma Shana. Nothing I wrote ached to be published like that story. It began to scream at me from the deep recesses of the dusty box in my closet as if it were a living being that had been buried alive. It wanted to live. I had to find a way to give it life.
Once again, the endless round of agent querying began and soon after, the rejection letters piled up in my email. It didn’t matter to me this time. I had decided to self publish. There was no longer a stigma attached to self publishing as there had been when I started on this journey some years ago. Indie publishing was now the thing to do and I was going to do it.
My book would be read. My writing would be appreciated and it would be criticized. My story would be called controversial by some and to others, it would be enlightening. Pay particular attention here as this is where I shamelessly self promote. J There are things in this story that will make you angry. Some will make you cry and others will invoke laughter. There are issues that many struggle with daily and yet, for others, these issues are unfathomable. Most importantly is the message of hope that I have tried to convey in this story.
I, of course, am posting the link to Amazon in the hope that you will read it. It’s only available on kindle at the moment (at a very affordable price I might add) but I hope to have it in print in the next couple of months. As an aside, if you don’t have a kindle you can download the free app from Amazon and read any kindle book on your pc or phone.
I look forward to your comments and hope we get to know each other well. It won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t like my book or anything else I blog about. We can agree to disagree. Please post anyway. I’d rather be noticed than ignored. :-)