To my second best friend, thank you

I know that being a writer requires having thick skin.  But sometimes, life itself can be simply overwhelming when everything collides at once.  The inner troll didn’t even have to say anything.  I could sense it kick back and smirk today.

Today, the project that I have at work was getting to me.  Apparently, doing a great job with the previous one automatically declares me gifted in all things IT.  Except where accounting is concerned.  Especially the accounting where I work.  The babbling of my three-year-old grandson makes more sense than this stuff.  And I’m supposed to work come up with questions to ask.  I have only one real question:  What do they have that we need to accomplish this task?  Better still, no one else on my team can really help because it’s an area we have never worked with, so they are as clueless as me.  Blind leading the blind.  It’s moments like these, I totally understand the goal of the underachiever: to be good enough to stay employed, inept enough to not set anyone’s expectations too high.  Blah.

And then there is my writing.  I want so very much to be able to discuss my story worlds with someone. Anyone.  Get feedback.  What did they like?  What didn’t they like?  What was confusing>? (Which I cannot ask my husband, because we think too much alike.  Things need not be written for him to just know what I intended.  He is good at catching most, but some things make sense to us that make others go “Buh wha?”)  I’m not terribly worried about net trolls.  My inner troll has been raking me over the coals for so long, it would laugh mockingly at them and lavish them with its claws to show them what a real troll can do.  It has slipped its leash now and then.  I’ve seen the results.  Not pretty.

So, I have three books written already and I decided to replace their covers, as I want to have them available in print.  It is truly amazing how many people I know who prefer physical books.  Of course, the cover artists are absolutely awesome.  It helps a lot.  Still, being an indie author is hard.  Thanks to a bunch of people who have no pride in their work throwing everything out there because they can, being an indie is a stigma, even among my friends.  Having lived years being the kid who was ignored, it hurts when I cannot figure out how to get anyone to listen to me, or acknowledge I exist.

Oh, I had the bullies to deal with, too.  But I learned to deal with them.  I was too proud to let a bunch of shallow, elitist snobs or idiot drug-head thugs win.  But being ignored.  That hurt.  So, having about as much marketing ability as most rocks have of floating, and a decided desire to avoid the type of marketing that turns me off, it’s pretty much the equivalent of being ignored.  Why can’t I market myself?  Because I try to be honest, and I figure I either sound utterly desperate or completely insincere when I try to force myself. 😛

So, my mother, wanting to support my dreams, helped me with the cost for a professional to create two covers, and for that, I am incredibly grateful to her.  Unfortunately, life being what it has been, I had no idea how I was going to pay for the third.

In steps my second best friend.  (First best friend is my husband of twenty-plus years, of course.)  Lori has offered to help me with the third cover.  I didn’t ask her.  She just believes in me and my dream.  And that means more to me than I have words to express.  Language, no matter how many words in how many different tongues, can never truly express the depths of gratitude I feel.

Thank you, Lori.  You are wonderful. I adore you.

About LexyWolfe

I am a writer of fantasy and occasionally science fiction.
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