Being a writer

When looking at the weather, I like a satellite view.  It’s so easy to watch the clouds swirling, and I can see from which direction the rain will be coming at me. 

I feel like a goddess looking down upon a puny Earth, able to steer away a hurricane by the touch of a finger.

Once I’m outside, ominous dark grey clouds rush by, providing me with a far different perspective. 

I’m the puny being looking up at a cloud, one that is spitting out lightning, a cloud that appeared to be so small from a satellite.

That’s how it feels to be a writer.  I’m immersed inside a civilization I’ve created.  I can kill anyone at any time. I can bring them happiness or misery, and no one else on Earth will decide their fate.

Then, when it’s time to head for work, I wonder, “Who will be deciding my fate today?”

In a strange sort of way, I write for a living.

Most of the time, I’m reading over quarterly reports to create an annual report. 

Yes, I’ve achieved one of my dreams:  I have my own office with a window. 

My #1 dream of all time is to sell books.  It was easier to get an office with a window.

Book #3, in the First Level of Hell series, just passed through the final edit.  Once the interior is formatted and uploaded with the cover, I ‘ll let you know.

How many years has it been since I’ve published a book?

Too many. 

All I can promise you is this: A lot of characters die in book #3, and most of them are still alive.

You’ll have to read book #3 to find out how I pulled that off.