Introducing Ruff Life at Sea

My recent bout of depression was the right thing at the right time and I’ll explain why.

I thought I was finished with all that but apparently not; and chances are excellent it would happen again if I couldn't figure out the WHY?

I came to the conclusion that most everything in my psyche is affected, and stymied, by my DAMN BOOK. This Sword of Damocles never leaves, and does not allow me to enjoy other pursuits.  Anyone who knows me knows it’s the truth.

In 2010 I began my story in a blog, but well-meaning friends suggested,

"You should make money at this!"

So I stopped. I’ve been working on it ever since: writing and editing over and over; all the while trying not to be discouraged by what still needs to be done after I’ve actually finished:  find the right publisher; make it through the slush pile; editor's deliberations; meetings; contracts; publishing, promotion…and then hope it sells?  No wonder I was depressed.

Nowadays, writers are expected to maintain social media platforms to help promote our Great American Novels, and I can't even answer my Smart Phone.  In addition, I have loads of photographs but no publisher would include more than a dozen or so; and how can I properly paint a picture with that?  

Since I’ve learned that I don’t seem to make money when I try (it does come from elsewhere), why should a book be any different?  My driving force has not been greed so much as sharing a fun story about how I managed to achieve my dream…on a shoestring.

For the past week-plus I've been creating a brand new blog (I will continue Travels with ButterCup,  but this is different). It's my Blog-Book and it's FREE.  I compiled all my drafts and discovered that over the years my editing skills have improved to the point where I lost most of the details and feelings.  If I’m going to tell the truth I’ll have to be brutally frank, which isn't a problem.  And this way I don’t have to worry about permissions and lawsuits as much. I can take something down if anyone finds it objectionable; there's a Contact gadget.

As I write for this publication it’s as if the poison is bleeding out of me, finally.  I’ve a number of stories to post one after the other right away; but thereafter I’ll be adding a chapter or two a week because I've got dozens and dozens of drafts to pick apart.

So without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen, click on the link to enjoy:

RUFF LIFE at SEA

If you like it, please share it.  There’s no obligation; there aren’t even any ads on the page.*
It's simply a labor of love.

* I can't promise that won't change, for I remain, after all, homeless. But no longer hopeless.