First I came down with the ‘flu, and writing this blog took a distinct secondary role to things like…oh, breathing. But I’ve been better for a few days now.
Then I had to catch up from being sick — laundry, groceries, getting pet food in the house.
Then came the world’s discovery that Matt Bomer is a rapidly rising sex symbol. (heh) Thanks to Laura Kinsale and my commitment to my critique partner, I was ahead of the curve on this one, and my blog became hit zone central for Matt Bomer photos. (Is it just me, or does anyone else not see the word “boner” every time they read his name? And do you suppose that was that a purposeful choice?)
So I spent much of yesterday fascinated by my stat counter, watching my hit rate go from X to X +880.
Next came the debacle that is the publishing world in romance. If you’ve been hiding under a rock somewhere, and haven’t heard of Harlequin’s decision to become a vanity publisher, here are a few links you might check out: Allison Brennan’s take on it; Jackie Kessler’s analysis of Harlequin’s letter to its writers, a Smart Bitches discussion, an a literary agent’s analysis. Between Twitter, the web, and my desire to become educated, I spent much of yesterday glued to my computer.
ETA: Holy smokes, people. The plot thickens. The Mystery Writers of America has added their condeming voices to the rollout of Harlequin Horizons. Check out this press release.
So all these combined together made for a powerful and compelling reasons not to blog until now, right?
Uh-uh. The truth is, having broken my commitment to myself to blog thrice weekly, I found myself gripped by fear. I went looking for reasons to avoid putting up a post yesterday, people. And I was darn happy to find them. (That’s why it’s called rationalization, right. Rational lies.)
So this is my throat-clearing post. There is nothing particularly witty, or tragic, or even news-worthy in this post. Nevertheless, it shall stand as a lobstick for me; a signal of the path forward and that I will persist despite internal resistance.
(By the way, if you’re unfamiliar with the term “lobstick”, here’s it’s definition, as taken from lobstick.com: “The term lobstick is strongly associated with the northern Cree nations. A lobstick is a tall conspicuous spruce or pine tree stripped of all but its top branches and serving as a living landmark, monument, or mark of honour for a friend. Apparently first used as a term by “explorer” Alexander MacKenzie in 1789 in his book entitled Voyage from Montreal, lobsticks often served as trail markers or meeting places.” The image above is also taken from their site.)
I don’t know why I have such personal limitations, but there probably aren’t enough couches in the world to figure it out. I just know I have to get past it. And rather than let a week of blog silence turn into a month, I have to hit publish on this rather imperfect post. So there it is, and thanks for indulging me.
And now I am off to try and get some original words done on my work in progress. Funny thing about wanting to become a published romance writer: One actually has to write.