show of hands…

okay. so tara caribou is in the final stages of publishing my book confusion perfume & other neurotic comics.
she wants me to come up with a number of books i should have on hand should anyone want to order a signed copy.
so, show of hands, who is thinking they would want to order a signed copy of my book as opposed to just getting the regular copy (because, of course, i am sure you are all going to run right out (to your local internet) and get a copy of my first book…right?
i don’t want to end up just using a box of books to build forts with in my office on those days–you know those days–when only a blanket fort weighted down with all the extra copies of your first book will do….
plus i get kinda fire-happy when i am feeling depressed…so, i really don’t want any fodder for whatever random cleansing i decide to do in a moment of “clarity”….
anyhoo…anyone want a signed copy of my book? due out october 1st (the blood moon, y’all.)

furthermore…

here’s another art journal page inspired by my religiously intolerant soon-to-be-ex publisher.
i was trying to be understanding of his taking over 2 times what he said it would take to publish my collection & never answering my emails, but his telling me that magic is only in the mind of a human was just too much for me.
so i’m starting from scratch on publishing my short story collection…if you have any recommendations for small presses, let me know.

sheep fingers

i’m sending off the bits & parts that will hopefully become confusion perfume & other neurotic comics published by tara caribou’s raw earth ink.

i guess i will be re posting all of the moses jones pages next? y’all ready for that? maybe i’ll hook a publisher for it as well….
i also need to try again at the sustainable arts foundation award for artists & writers with children. it opens on february 1st. i am thinking i am going to submit my latest pages of moses jones.

meanwhile, here are some sheep fingers for you to enjoy…they are good with ketchup.

better late than never

when i was not even yet 20
i had written
three or four books
& working on the next one
plunking away
on an electric typewriter
sending off pages & pages
to publishers
& agents
getting back
an impressive collection of rejections
i knew i was going to be a famous
author
i knew it…
but life got in the way
& hope
dreams
years
lost
to
“but what are you really going to be?”
&
“shouldn’t you be looking for a job
with health insurance”
(punk rock little me
thinking
as long as i have planned parenthood
why do i need insurance?)
somehow
without looking
i am almost fifty
still punk rock
but not yet
nor
anytime soon
a famous
author
however!
soon
a published
author.

my collection of stories–some from those times when i was 20…some from an almost 50 (but still punk rock!!) mother of four…and all the time in between–my collection of short stories has been accepted by a small press in ohio.
a punk rock press, of course.

i should be excited…& i think i am…but maybe after so many years of being quietly unpublished, i am not sure how to make noise about being published….
give me a day or two.

meanwhile, i have started a new art journal series about my being feral. that is, decidedly not a domestic goddess. it is over on my patreon page along with my other art journal pages.

and happy earth day, y’all…but, remember, every day is earth day!!

finding medusa

i’ve spent a lot of today working on my collection of short stories that i hope to publish.
so far i am calling it walk with me.

then i took a break to doodle medusa. (doodling medusa…that would be a good title for something!)
which brings me to the proclamation of how much i fucking love writing. creating. making entire universes and breathing characters alive.
and there are stories everywhere.
just waiting to be plucked & polished.

i feel like i am blooming.
as an artist…as a writer…as a person.
it’s very exciting.

and a nice change from moping.

panic attack

i am 
literally
having a panic
attack
looking through 
google docs
& files files files
on my hard drive
& months months months
of writings
here & in the physical journals
from whence
they sprung
…it’s
too 
much
too fucking much
how many words 
can there be?
how many 
emotions
vomited
all over my laptop?
now
fuck it
there is one more.

i am serious about getting together a collection to try to publish…but holy fucking crap. there is so much–crap–to wade through. 
do i keep it to the actual art journal project?
do i add in some older stuff?
some sideways stuff?
some stuff i don’t even remember writing? 

i need a personal assistant/editor stat!

this is going to be one of those “kill your darlings” moments i always heard about in writing workshops, isn’t it?

get me a bottle of whiskey & a blowtorch, y’all, i’m going in!

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