I’m an entertainer, not an intellectual, so I don’t pretend to know more about the world or society or the future than other people.  Anyone who claims to know the future is either a fool or a con artist, and in my opinion, the same can be said for anyone who “knows” god’s plan.  Once upon a time, I believed myself to be a highly spiritual person and, in my arrogance, I’m sure I believed that I had more figured out than most.

Then, life kicked my ass.

One of the most humbling experiences of my life was a year ago on Christmas morning.  For anyone who doesn’t know already, that was the first anniversary of the day my ex-wife told me she wanted a divorce.  I woke up alone to complete silence.  Those of you with children, try to imagine it.  It’s a silence with its own gravitational pull.  I challenge you to experience that and then try to feel like you have more figured out than anyone.  It brought everything in my life into sharp focus, and it put my ego in check.

If you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, you’ve noticed that I battle depression pretty regularly, and in a lot of ways, I’ve lost my spiritual faith.  Most days, the world seems cold and vicious, a rolling speck of dust in the black vacuum of space.  There’s little justice to be found and even less fairness, and what mercy exists is finite and fleeting.  I never thought my consciousness would transform into this state, but it’s where I find myself at the beginning of 2010.

When people meet me, they generally describe me as nice or kind, and in a lot of ways, I guess I am a kind-hearted person.  I’m glad that despite everything that’s happened, I’ve managed to retain that facet of my personality.  I like treating others with respect and dignity, even if we are on a speck of dust hurtling through the void.  Compassion and kindness are two of our greatest traits as humans, and if more people cultivated them, we could have a better world.

I guess that’s all for tonight.  www.thirdaxe.com

I just learned that one of my closest friends from college passed away a couple of years ago.  My friends who knew her will understand why it took a couple of years for me to learn of her death.  She was a deeply private person, fiercely shy and slightly paranoid.  We lost touch after I finished graduate school, and once I was out of her inner circle for a little while, I could not locate her, not even with the miracle of search engines.  If you didn’t know her, you will probably never hear about her outside of this blog.  She left little evidence of her life, and the people who record history will not deem her achievements noteworthy.

But she was my friend, one of the closest I had during my most formative years.  She was one of my earliest fans, long before my talent warranted much support or encouragement.  She loved the Indigo Girls, Melissa Etheridge, and Chris Whitley.  She loved working logic puzzles and playing video games.  She was a technology junkie.  She loved all things Trek and had a deep passion for vampires.  She had a quirky sense of humor, an acerbic wit, and a big heart.  When I knew her, her two Siamese cats were her children, and she cared for them with patience and nurturing.

She took good care of me at a time when I was completely lost.  There were many days I would not have eaten if she had not bought me food, and there were a few nights I might not have survived if she had not held my head.  I wish we hadn’t lost touch with each other because she was a true friend, one of those rare people who didn’t judge me, didn’t condescend to me, and allowed me to explore my creative boundaries without hindrance.  I love her deeply and have thought of her often, especially after my children were born.  Even though she proclaimed to dislike children, for some reason I suspect she would have been an excellent aunt and would have loved mine as if they were her own.

I’m sure these few words don’t do justice to her life.  She was a good soul, albeit a little lost, and she deserves more than I can muster right now. 

Lisa Ross – November 11, 1964 to December 4, 2007

Here’s what frustrates me the most about the publishing industry:  First of all, despite the fact that we live in an era of instant modes of communication, it takes weeks, months, and sometimes years to get basic answers.  For some reason, agents and publishers seem grounded in the 1950’s on a snail mail pace.

Second, most experts agree that breaking into the business keeps getting more and more difficult, and while mediocre mid-listers can hang around for decades, new writers have to offer what’s referred to as a platform.  Simply put, a new writer needs some kind of gimmick to be noticed, like say having been a professional basketball player with pink hair or having written their manuscript while still in the womb, anything that will grab a headline.  The problem with gimmicks is that they are usually flashes in the pan with no real substance.

Third, despite the facts that I’ve received outstanding reviews from numerous independent sources; sat beside Glen Cook on a panel and held my own in a discussion on writing technique; earned acceptance into one of the largest science fiction/fantasy conventions in the country; and have a Master’s degree in creative writing, because I’m an independent, many “professionals” look down their nose at me and don’t take me seriously as a real writer.  Normally, I don’t give a flip what other people think about me; I do my own thing my own way.  But I take great pride in my craft as a writer, and my books deserve respect.

I need marketing dollars; if not for that simple fact, I wouldn’t bother with an agent or a major publisher.  I enjoy being an independent.  I like the fact that I’ve accomplished so much with so little against such horrendous odds.  I’m proud of what I’ve done so far, but I need to do it full-time.  I no longer have the fountain of energy to burn the candle at both ends, and teaching has become a tedious chore.  I’m at a point in my life where I’m tired of working myself weary and banging my head against the wall.  One way or the other, I will find a way to earn a living full-time as a writer because I have no other choice.

www.thirdaxe.com