My Second Book

...was Nowhere, Everywhere. I agonized over its title for oh, about six months. It was the comma that threw me. Would people get it? Would it matter? Should it be an ampersand instead? It turns out, it doesn't really matter, because evidently, my mother loves that book, a work entirely of fiction, more than the story of my great-great grandmother anyway. So Nowhere, Everywhere, it is. Self-published, by my obsessive-compulsive, control freaky little ways. Because I say who. I say when. I say how much. And now, Amazon is selling a copy of my book as a collectible item for double the price. I suppose I should nail down whether I've died, and if I have, my works will be going through the roof.

And then...

A book that takes sixteen years to write, is a book that needs heavy editing. Living through different lives, time zones, secondary surgical excitement, and cross-country zig-zagging insist I give this baby the thrice-over before I slap a cover on it and give it to the world. I have a dream for it to help people, and I don't want it to be sub-par. Soon, though. Coming soon. #outofmyhead