I believe that's from an old song ... I often rant on this blog about not having enough time to get it all done. For some reason, I subconsciously think that by writing about the time I don't have, a few extra hours will mysteriously appear in my day. Silly me.
Michael and I have come up with a list of priorities ... but just looking at the four pages is daunting because, in fact ... it all needs done. We've been working steadily this week securing a book distributor, setting up our trip to New York in April and D.C. in May ... the BookExpo (Southern Fried Women will be on the New Title Display at the BEA), preparing for the Southeastern Independent Booksellers Alliance (SIBA) trade show, among other promotion and publicity things we have set out to do, (touring, speaking, and meeting the public.) Thank God for our publicist. This will be the beginning of ramping up to a good-sized job for her.
I told my layout artist just this week, "You know, I do believe writing it was the easy part." She laughed and agreed with me.
And it really doesn't matter who your publisher is, or whether you’re self-published ... authors must carry most of the burden of publicity on their own shoulders. (I've ranted about that, too.)
When you add up all you do in twenty-four hours that doesn't pertain to writing ... eating, sleeping, showering, driving, etc. etc. how much is left for family, friends, and work?
The slices of pie keep getting smaller.
So if I really could save time in a bottle ... I guess I'd write just for the fun of it, because I'd be rich and would never have to think about paying bills again.
Silly me.
Blessings to you and yours.
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