I don't know if it's this gray, drizzly weather, but I've been sleepy all week, despite how much sleep I get. Last night I went to bed before ten and woke up around 7:30. If that's not enough sleep then I don't know what to think. I have a busy day lined up, so that should keep me from getting the sleepies, at least until after dinner...
Lauren came up Friday evening and, after getting groceries, I made a tea tray and brought it into the bedroom where she and Nettl were talking. We shared some cups and I settled back, cozy in the bed, with my latest read, Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Pierre Choderlos De Laclos, translated by P.W.K. Stone. Lauren, who speaks French like someone who has lived in France her entire life, said that it is a perfect translation. It's a slow read, however.
What did I do on Saturday... I can't remember. Read, brought plants in from the porch, not much else. In the evening I received an email concerning the possible publishing of my book, Night Music. A publisher has been reading it online and, although he says it's very well written, in a warm style and with impeccable research behind it, he does not know how to market it. I can't tell you how many times I've heard this. It's what every publisher has told me through the years. What's the big deal? It's an historical fiction like those written by Margaret George, who has written the memoirs of Cleopatra and Henry VIII. Hell, the bookstores are full of historical fictions! It's beyond me why I keep hearing this. I wrote a rebuttal, but publishers have never been known for their imaginations, and these days they're more concerned with "the bottom line" than they are books. Pfui!
It's time for writers to take their work away from the corporate business majors, time to regard writing as an art and not as a commodity like a bottle of ketchup. It's time to do what the Bloomsbury Group did and set up our own publishing and help out fellow writers by advertising each other's works. I've decided to make an area in the sidebar dedicated to advertising books that are written by authors of like mind, people who will exchange banners with me in order to help each other out. I'm tired of sitting on the pier with my line in the water, waiting for "the big one" that always seems to get away. I'm going to claim the damned lake!
Yesterday I took Micah to the airport in OKC for his two weeks in England. He's in London as I write this, probably walking around Regent's park, which is close to where he's staying in Camden Town, or sitting in a pub enjoying an afternoon pint. Just thinking about him being there I can smell the city, hear the sounds, envision the light. I love London with a passion--it rivals Vienna in many ways--and I miss it. I can't wait until I can take Nettl there.
Meantime, I'm drinking my coffee, shoring up for the day ahead. Have a great Monday, whatever you find yourself doing.