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Saturday, April 24, 2021

Pierwalker Log: April 24, 2021

Writing Start: 9:54
Finish: 1:01
Total New Words (est.): 500
Edited (est.): 2400


Tasks

1. Book Three Melody: Off
Notes: I said I'd start the primaries today in yesterday's log. If I do, it'll be tonight at some point. Else I'll either get to them when my week-long "break" ends, or I'll get through them during it.
 
2. Dreamcatcher: Off
 
3. Cheapery St. Heroes Book Three: Off till 6/22
 
4. Firefly: Edited what I've written so far in chapter nineteen
 
5. Angel: Book Three: 500 new words
Notes: The chapter is completed! As with Book Three above, if I'm motivated over my upcoming "holiday," I'll get through the primaries. Else I'll get to them a week from next Tuesday.
 
6. Stories from the Quiet: Off till 5/12
 
7. The Good Place: Edited what I've written so far in chapter three
 
8. The White City: Off till 5/13

Transcribing Montaigne: Off
 
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Thought of the Day: No Pierwalker logs until May 4th. I'm going to power down, at least a little, on the regular project schedule next week and give myself a little break as a reward for publishing a new book.

I have difficulty rewarding myself, no doubt because of my upbringing. For that reason, I make it a point to do so, even though it's inevitably uncomfortable for me.

Seventeen years writing full-time ... and twenty-seven books to show for it. Not bad, eh?

I don't have an editing team, or a team to design my covers, or a publicist. I don't have connections of any kind; and I certainly don't have any cash. Everything I've published I've done so from the ground up. It's all mine. I'm very proud of that. Especially given those limitations.

It's difficult many days to sit here and plow on. It really is. If I'm lucky, I'll actually sell a book, maybe two, each year. I'll get to the end of the year five, maybe ten, dollars ahead. That's it. To "earn my keep" I take care of our home; I cook and clean; I fetch the groceries and see to the car's maintenance. I am, in effect, what my mother was: a "housewife."

Many treat that word as a pejorative. They shouldn't. There is tremendous dignity in it, one I sensed in Mom. It's why, even then, I didn't look down on her as my siblings did, as her ex-husband did, and as society-at-large did.

Kye's business keeps us afloat. We're poor, but we're doing all right. I work hard to see to it that she has what she needs to grow her business, then get the hell out of her way. She's been chugging away for more than ten years now, and loves what she does. That's a true blessing in any universe.

It helps as well that we live in rural America, where rents tend to be much cheaper than in cities. We live in basically a tiny house (an RV) we've lovingly named the TARDIS, which we own. We manage to get along in such cozy quarters, and, for the most part, have learned to keep out of each other's way. We read each other's work (she's a writer too) and encourage each other. More rare blessings.

None of it has been easy. Not one second of it. This culture is toxic, plastic, brittle, avaricious, indifferent, and destructive. It consumes art; it doesn't appreciate art. Everything has a dollar sign attached to it, even life itself; and popularity determines everything from morals to the worth of a movie--or a book. If the great mooing herd hasn't heard of it, it isn't worth two dried dog shits on a broken shingle. That's as dysfunctional as you can get.

Still ... I plow on. There's a decent probability I'll publish another book this year: The Cheapery St. Heroes: Book Three. Melody's saga continues, as do her side-stories. More is coming in Angel. I'll be adding more stories to Slum over time; and I'm constantly posting new chapters in my fan fiction projects. I'm working on illustrations; and each week I typically complete seven more fractals, which, hopefully (someday) you'll get to see.
 
This is my life. Imperfect, yes; difficult, yes. Sometimes, it's impossible. I struggle with clinical depression and PTSD; they often makes matters even harder. But the thing is: I don't want to do anything else with my life. I just don't. I can handle the shit sandwiches it brings. And as for fame, riches, and glory ... thanks, but I'll pass. It'd be nice to have a small community of readers and friends, and I work towards that each day. But that's a very slow process, one that requires great trust from folks. That isn't easily earned. I'm good with that.
 
Have a great evening; and I'll see you here at Pierwalker a week from Tuesday.