Enough is Enough

Okay, that's it!  I've been patient.  I've followed the meticulous instructions for submissions, I've set up the website, I'm even blogging -on the regular!  I've humbly accepted my rejection letters.  I even  found myself appreciating the one letter that at least recognized my talent and the time it took to put it all together, and I'm half way through my whiskey stash.  I'm done pimping my baby, my T-Rexy. We are exhausted.  They've missed out, those big name publisher's.  I'm going to self publish this bad boy.

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times, T-Rexy is an awesome dinosaur picture book.  It's got realistic facts without trying to turn your children (and yourself) into paleontologists over night, it has  bright pictures, and even carnage!  I've been so busy writing bio's, query letter's and reading through each and every publisher's website (twice) in fear of missing some key thing that will land me in the rejection pile that I've not been in the studio.  I walk by it, give it a loving, longing glance then I sit in front of the computer.  I think I've threatened to throw this damn thing out the window at least 50 times.  I'm on the bottom floor so, sort of anti-climatic even if I did.  It does, however, explain the dwindling Jameson supply.  

This publishing process has made me question my talent, my life and the Universe/God.  I'm done jerking around.  So today, it ends (hear a page turn).  I'm going to finish this post then I'm going to paint.  I'm going to paint until I can't see straight.  At this point I'm afraid of angering the Muse.  She's been whispering in my ear and I've been turning away.

I have these great ideas, the spooky October sun?  Still in my mind.  My friend Monica's fall sun?  Same place.  I had a moment with foliage the other day....I hate to tell you this, it was almost sexual, all I wanted to do was put it on paper.  And I what have I done?  I fear if I ignore the Muse for much longer I will be punished.

“But the fact is, she [the muse] won't be summoned. She alights when it damn well pleases her. She falls in love with one artist, then deserts him for another. She's a real bitch!” 

― Erica Jong

I'm going.  I'm leaving you with a song and I'll see you Monday with the new stuff.