I am having that weird butterfly in the stomach feeling that you get when you are teetering on the edge of something, getting ready to jump.

It’s about my book, of course. That one I’ve been working on for years. Part of a trilogy of novellas that I need a spiffy title for, like “The Excommunication Triad” or “Quick way to Hell Series” or maybe just “She wrote WHAT?”…

The last appeals because I can hear my mother responding to these stories with her

classic upswinging “Whaaaaattt?“. I think she’d not be overly pleased with the topics though she told me (after I went through nursing school and birthed three children) that she’d always hoped I’d be a writer

Nice one, mom. How about telling me that BEFORE I tied my life up in knots? Of course, children grow, careers flounder, writing time becomes more available – but that doesn’t mean any of it gets DONE. There’s Netflix, and wine, and tinkering and sleeping…

But I think the subject matter of these books (thrashing around religious dogma) might scandalize her. She loved that word, scandalize. It’s one of the words I associate with her, along with the Whaaaaaat? She could speak so animatedly, lay out her arguments so convincingly, squash rebellion so effectively. I never learned how to do that. Possibly because she was so good at crushing any attempts to learn.

Ergo the three kids I birthed trotted merrily all over me, leaving little trotter marks as they ground me into the dirt and took up all my time. (Ah, I exaggerate. Only had to eat dirt sometimes.)

At least they DID. Now grown up, they are almost civilized (some more than others) and speak kindly to me. Sometimes gently…

But at their worst, they didn’t prepare me for this. It’s an odd thing, you know. I’ve put my artsy self out there with barely a blink, but writing, ah writing–well that gets at my soul. If people hurt me there I will surely bleed. It’s all tied up in ‘the one thing I do well is think’ persona I developed so well before MS took my mind. The gods laugh best when they take away your bragging.

I’ve been published before. Those were small things and not a single article really tied them with ME, except for the one about my ex attempting to let me sleep in (and failing miserably) that also mentioned how long he took in the bathroom. Alas, that one had my photo all over it and was widely circulated. (Ottawa Citizen, even) My family-in-law were, yes,  scandalized.

I might be wrong about how terrifying this will be. After all, I thought putting my art on display would be horrid, and now you just try and stop me…(Many have. Primarily myself.)

Possibly no one will even read my book (small screaming noise).

So maybe putting my book out will be okay. Perhaps I’ll take wing as I spring out into the air. Maybe I’ll crash. Still unsure, but I’ll never know unless I do it.

It’s all about vulnerability and those who know me know this isn’t one of my skills. In one of my other articles, I was described as a ‘do-it-all spouse’. As a single person, I’m even more wound with thorny branches.

Wings are fluttering as I near completion. I can see the horizon ahead. The forces are conspiring to send me out there. For a NaNoWriMo prize, Kindle offers an entire publishing link, so I went to check it out, only to be told that I already had an account and I still needed to upload a book, gosh darn it! (Obviously created when in a fugue state.) It was like a bit of wind up my feathery backside, pushing me out into the ether.

At the bottom of the Kindle page, they have this incredibly intoxicating phrase:

Once you create a book it will show up here in your Bookshelf

So exciting. I am looking for Advance Readers to have a look and review my book, scandalized or no. If you’d like one, or just want to email me something scandalous, please contact me at dorothyanne@somewhatgrumpypress.com

PS: I am using this launch as a practice one for my press. If you have writing projects in the pipeline, please keep me in mind…