Taxes and Other Truths

It’s that time of year again. When KDP sends me an email asking if I want to view my tax forms.

I don’t actually.

I don’t want to know that a book it took me two years to write, edit, and publish is languishing unseen, unsold, and unread. I especially don’t want to know that the three books I’ve written have met the same fate.

Truths I avoid like Covid the rest of the year are ready and waiting for me now. Nice and neat, gift wrapped for me by the Internal Revenue Service.

I don’t have to look. Except, of course, I do. How can I not?

Hope springs eternal for the deluded, a.k.a self-published authors. If it didn’t there wouldn’t be so many of us out there.

The question is how much power do I allow these 1042-S forms to wield? Do I let my lacklustre sales determine whether I finish the book I’m working on now? Do I say, “Hey, I’m no J.K. Rowling. Let’s pack this dream up and call it a day?”

I could.

And I would, except for the fact that I’m stubborn or, as I prefer to think of it, determined—to finish this last book. And maybe, just maybe…

There I go with that annoying hope again.

Aimer at Amazon

Second Time Around

I self-published my first book in 2014. I thought it was good. I was wrong.

I didn’t know it then, but I’d broken just about every writing rule there is.

To anyone who purchased Fireworks, my apologies. And thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on a newbie author and for giving me hope that maybe, just maybe, I could do this.

Five years on, and I’ve learned a bit. Not everything, not by a long shot, but enough to take a stab at fixing the mistakes I made the first time around.

So, here it is, the new and improved—I hope—version of that first attempt: Daniel Mine.

Aimer at Amazon

Caveat Emptor

Buyer Beware

Is it just me, or does there seem to be more to be wary of these days?

Scams and schemes abound, from the automated phone calls that threaten you with Revenue Canada if you don’t contact them to the truly horrific bogus kidnapping messages that claim they have your children.

And then there’s the people promising to change your life if you only hand over your wallet.

Case in point, recently I’ve been approached by companies offering to promote one of my books. Sounds good, right?

“You’re book has been recommended to us by …”
“We will flog your book on social media daily …”

I don’t know how much money these companies want because I hang up on them before they get to that point. Am I skeptical?

Hmmm… Am I breathing?

The first solicitor didn’t even know the title of my book. The second one sent me an email that could have used a grammar check.

Hmmm…

One caller said his company was based out of Las Vegas. Really?

So many books out there, so many that never get seen let alone read. Every indie author knows this — so do the companies offering to help you.

Caveat Emptor

Aimer at Amazon

 

 

51,510 Words

Four chapters to go on my current WIP … probably. Possibly. Maybe.

Writing isn’t an exact science with me, nothing even as concrete as theory. It’s more of a hope.

It’s magic really, isn’t it? A picture in your mind and then the search for the words to paint that picture.

I won’t even mention things like plot, character development, theme, point of view, setting and (shudder) grammar. These are all tools of the trade. Important? Of course. Interesting? Not so much.

They are the nuts and bolts behind every piece of writing. They bring coherence to the jumble of thoughts that circle your brain, but sorry, they make my eyes glaze over.

That’s not what writing is about, not for me.

Remember Lego? Latching all those tiny blocks together, making cubes that were supposed to be houses?

That’s what writing is.

Words are the blocks we build skyscrapers with. No, not skyscrapers, castles. Castles in the sky.

The wrong words and the whole thing collapses around you, but…

If you get it right, if your words paint your pictures — magic!

Aimer at Amazon

 

If

If I had stopped to button my coat,
If I had skipped class that day,
If I had gone to another library or another school…
Would I have met you?

If you hadn't worn those pants,
If you hadn't walked in front of me,
If you hadn't said, "Hey."
Would you be at my side now?

Would you be at my side still,
When your hair has thinned and mine is grey?

Why you, why me, why us?


Aimer at Amazon

Hard

A hand to hold against the emptiness?
A shoulder at my side?
A smile that says he knows me?
Laughter in the dark?

I want all of that, I do.

But now,
Now, I want the pounding.
Your hands on my hips,
Your body in mine.
I want the slam of us.

I want hard.

 

Aimer at Amazon

 

 

Want

He moved,
His open jacket revealing and concealing
Grey suit pants over narrow hips.
Black belt

He tugged,
Fingers pulling at a silk knot
Grey tie slipping down a white shirt.
Black belt

He folded,
Rolling his shirt cuffs up
White bands framing strong arms.
Black belt

He unfastened,
A silver buckle on a strip of leather
The portal to pleasure.
Black belt