"Life is a shit sandwich. The more bread you have, the less shit you have to eat."

　

My name is Mark, and I’m grateful for many things. My health, my wife and sons, the roof over my head, and that delightful quote from above. I’m in the process of rebuilding my life. I turn forty-eight this summer, and contrary to popular belief, it’s okay to fail as long as I never give up. Failure does teach many of the lessons we need to finally succeed in life. Hopefully, as time goes by, I can put those lessons into words.

　

The backdrop to all this is my wife of twenty-three years, who is physically and mentally disabled. I take care of her 24/7/365. I love my wife. I cook for her, clean for her; housework, yard work, garden; whatever it takes. Her seizures (she has a severe form of Epilepsy) prevent her from doing things that could be dangerous. Stairs are dangerous, pots of boiling water, chopping fresh anything with a knife, running with scissors is a given for everybody, but you get the idea. The mental side of it, it’s like living with a perky tween. You can see why I take my job as a husband seriously. She is my life, the last seventeen years by her side every single night and day, and she will continue to be my life.

　

I’m pretty much on my own. My family has helped us all they could. They treat us with decency and respect, keep us close to their hearts, and every holiday we get together for food and fun. We’re po’ folk. It’s what we do. When my wife’s mother died I found out she had cut us out of her will, and my wife’s sisters, several of them, made it a point to show us their new cars. Once sister talks to my wife on a weekly basis but can’t look me in the eye, two sisters rarely talk to my wife (Couple times a year?), and one wouldn’t pick up a phone to save her soul. Me, to them, all of them, I’m worse than garbage. A title I wear with pride, thank you. You can think what you want on that.

　

I want you to understand what I’m up against. I’ve been listing all my options, listing my resources, trying to decide what to do, rebuilding my life with the tools at hand. I make do. Most people throw money at their problems, but I can’t. I don’t have any to throw. We live on a fixed income and food stamps. Therefore, in order for me to get ahead, I have to save as much money as possible, while making as much money as possible. There is one more thing to consider in that oversimplified equation. My food stamps. For every dollar I make, the state takes away a dollar in food stamps. Fair or not, that’s the way it is. Hard to climb out of the poverty pit when Uncle Sam bends you over for every dollar make. My attitude toward all this is one of crafty desperation, and humor.

　

I’m a trained graphic artist and illustrator, and way back when, when I needed to see to my wife’s care full time, I tried to start an agency that dealt in marketing material. Brochures and such. Identity packages. Logos. I took what I had then in resources and produced my own marketing material, sent it out to area businesses large and small. I met and talked with people for eight months and they all wanted something for nothing, and I kept saying I was in this to make a living. At the end of those eight months I was broke. I had to pull back. Being a full-time illustrator, that meant producing and mailing marketing material, and lots of purchased art supplies. This was all before personal computers ruled our worlds, btw. Before scanners, copiers, and color printers could be purchased as a single appliance for under fifty dollars. Back then it cost big money to produce color marketing material. Back then I couldn’t do it. I had rent to pay, food to buy, and mouths to feed. I took my hobby, writing, and came to the conclusion that was all I could afford. Paper, ribbon, postage.

　

Fourteen years later I successfully published every short story I ever wrote. Most short stories published many times, actually. I then decided to concentrate on novels, and have six of them ready to go. I’m almost done with my seventh, and have a very good 20,000 word start on my eighth novel. You want to know where I am now? Nowhere. I got about 700 plus rejection slips to prove it. I blog about those adventures separately over at my Brain Turds blog.

　

Over the years I’ve been ripped off by three online publishers. The last of which became a clearinghouse publisher. They’ll publishing anything, from anyone, with little or no editing. But, I tried. I tried, and I learned.

　

Orange Moon Publishing was my still-born baby. My publishing company, that still could work. Several hundred dollars ($1200 to date) to produce one book, doing everything myself to save money, and I haven’t made one single dime. I bought PageMaker 7 to produce the book, spent three years paying for a Web site that sits and does nothing, paying also to keep my domain name current, and a few other items not worth listing. I don’t have the funds to produce or market a second book, but I’m working on that. Family comes first.

　

Central Park, in the Fall was a wonderful dark fantasy novel. A love story, if you must know. I produced a very nice paperback. Inside, outside, cover art, typography. I promoted the book for a year, gave away numerous signed copies to venues that promoted authors, got (some limited but good) publicity, and nothing happened. Not one book sold from my Web site. I don’t know what to think about the online booksellers. There are a lot of new and used books out an about that I should have been paid for. You can read the first chapter of Central Park, in the Fall over at the Central Park blog. I’ll keep it up for a month, replacing it with a complete short story the next month. After that I’ll put up a first chapter of another finished novel, or the first three chapters. Let you see what I send out as sample pages in a standard full query.

　

I will admit Central Park, in the Fall is flawed. There are four typos, and I misused the semicolon. Instead of (word, and then) or (word; then), I had (word, then). I did that (word, then) thing about 150 times. Four typos, and 150 (word, then) things. Most people would catch the typos, at least two out of the four typos, but the (word, then) thing? I think most readers wouldn’t give the (word, then) thing a second glance. The book is fast-paced, easy to read. Those that have read it say it’s great. I know it’s damn good, despite its flaws. All that within 90,000 words. I’ll publish a corrected version when I can afford to put it out. All I have is me, and I make mistakes. I’m willing to learn from my mistakes. I took myself back to school. I spent years learning, editing my other books. Grammar, style, whatever. I wanted them right before I again approached prospective agents. And, if I get the chance, I don’t want another flawed book on the market.

　

Until next week. Take care.