There ain’t no rest for the writer

Seriously, there isn’t. Especially when you are an eccentric, bi-polar-ish, cynical person like me, and stories are everywhere you look just waiting to be written. So you write, and then what, send 100million query letters, say the hell with that I’ll just self-publish, or maybe I can find an agent or then again teach my cat how to tweet only to find out that for two whole days it’s been trying to eat the bird.

I published my short stories and poems, turned right around and wrote The Month of April which is out April 1st, I know clever marketing right??

And yesterday after I finished reading The Month of April like after the 100th time I became depressed because now wtf?

Fortunately, I woke up this morning with a better attitude and began writing two new stories, oh and did some more tweets, and posts, and Instagrams, and wrote some more. Cat still won’t tweet. Need a new agent. Anyone interested.

Still, I’m having fun. I love writing. It’s just always been that way.

Growing up I read books above my grade level and up until about five years ago never really read a book for fun, but more as if I were savoring it, learning from it. If you go through my books, and I have thousands, you will find notes scribbled inside, and highlighted sections, and my handwriting sucks. I remember on more than one occasion giving one of my (wait I wrote giving I meant loaning) books to my kids and they’d come back and go what did you write there and we’d have to use Google Translate and it didn’t work.

So I’ve always been a speed reader and reading up to five to seven books at a time no less. I’d read a paragraph in one, pick up the next book, read another paragraph, and so on and so on, and since I have this almost impeccable memory, at least with words, I never truly started enjoying reading as so many others do until I was in my forties.

So there is no rest for the self-publishing, acting as his own agent, and 100 more stories just queued up and ready to go, writer, and as I write this line, I look over at my cat who doesn’t give a damn.

Published by Chad Ard

Author, Editor

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