Can you? ( part deux)
Dearest you,
Had I given thee much time to think of can you?
I may have but truth be I have had very little sleep in 2 days. As I am in between two books at the Au courant.
Two, deux.
So shall we?
I did my last writing post as I was asked by a few new writers such a trail of questions. Pardon my French but writing isn’t for sissies.
Is that a word?
I think yesterday I was beyond tired during my family meeting et I sat across from my daughter et husband and I said, “ I must attend to my work.”
They both were so serious then they both laughed loudly, after my husband says, “ you are the only one that is up at 2 writing books, like you have got a deadline with Simon et Schuster.”
I laughed, then I wept.
Because reality is darlings I could do whatever the F I want, and when. I have got private publications that cost 1500. To 2500. Per book.
Yes. I can own that. Because no publisher can give me that right now.
So what’s my morale?
Money cannot speak to me like HEART, sorry.
And I am now 200 percent sure that I have hit a certain level of fou and I am on a role.
I work hard.
So hard.
Daily.
No one can pay me enough to stay up till 3 am to write a book.
But I want to.
I need to.
It’s the core of my existence. And these books are my companion.
These characters are the ink in my Mont Blanc.
So Tell your story as it is.
Don’t forge a different end nor a beginning.
The fame, the pennies, the whatever you seek will follow, but don’t try to create what isn’t to be.
Especially on paper.
That’s it.
You asked, I answered.
My stories, all 399 pages are as I want them.
Infact if you are reading this and you think you may want to get me published, think again.
The 24 books in private publication that will be given to an agent THEY will have to match them, as they are.
Because I mean business.
And the children I write for are not normal.
And also the normals one as they say, they too will envision the nØT so normal as captivating.
I’m writing books, I’m designing my books, I am printing my books, and mostly importantly, most ever so, the audience is a child that cannot walk nor talk.
If he loathes it, I scrap it et start again.
Because I can.
I will.
On repeat.
Daily.
Nightly.
Writer to writer, to heck with what’s been done, here’s to a new genre.
The Rianna Shaikh one.
I hope this helps you to find the you that you ought to be. It took me a very long time.
And a lot of money.
But I was only stumbling to find my inner voice.
So to my dearest Blanc rabbit, I j’adore you.
My readers I am all so complicated, but I know, je connais, that you get it.
merci beaucoup for all your love et patience.
God knows I have none, but motherhood is teaching me lots of it
Forever your writer,
RS
ps. The portrait is to distract you from the trop parler, bonsoir!