Little did I know that when I set out to write my novel REMEMBER ME it
would consume every waking minute of my time outside of my pay-the-bills work
life for the next three years. Or that I would stuff all of my worldly possessions
into my car and head for the hills of Virginia when Florida's economy pulled the
plug on me and threatened to end my nights of guilty writing pleasure.
Yes, I admit it. I abandoned family and friends rather than give up the
nightly company of my muse. What can I say? It became my drug of choice, my
secret lover, and I would have done anything to continue its conjugal
So I wonder if you can imagine the pain I've suffered for weeks-on-end
now, trying to remain sober enough to navigate the dangerous minefield of
agents, publishers and marketing platforms in order to give birth to my baby
without getting blown up in the process. If you have any empathy at all for my
predicament, then I beg of you, please hear me out.
Be patient, hold on, and stay with me awhile longer. The birthing is
eminent, and it'll be worth the wait for both of us, I promise you.