
Not many writers publish their work expecting to find a pot of gold, riches, fame or fortune. I know that I didn't. I just like to tell stories and share them with others. Hoping to put a smile on someones face or touch someones heart was good enough for me, but after publishing three short stories and one book I still have no idea how many people I have reached. All profits from my short stories went to charity and I am still waiting to here from my publishing company for a sales report on my book.
It is frustrating to wait and I wonder if I can really call myself an author, when I have spent alot of money and time writing but have not earned one single cent. Writing is a lonely business isn't it? I doubt there will ever be a pot of gold but I still would like to know that I am being heard. Can you hear me?
November is a dark, stormy, cold time of year and this year is especially hard for me. My writing has to wait for now, as with most everything else in my life. I face my mother's slow disappearance into dementia and I fight the health system alone. It is very hard to live on the other side of the world from the rest of your family when this kind of thing happens.
Pot of gold? I would settle for just a little sunshine.
Come back on Friday for the Oh, How I miss you Blogfest. Until then my friends, give your mother a kiss while she still remembers who you are!