I haven’t wrote in a while.  Not because I don’t want to, but because I have no ability to log onto the internet.  That fact saddens me.  I have all intentions of getting it – the only thing that i have left that I don’t have – but right now the funds don’t agree with me.  Will it ever?  I don’t have the answer to that.

Another question?  Am I really missed all that much?  Do people sit down at their computer during the day & think “Oh, Barbara hasn’t updated her blog lately…”  No.  No one thinks that.  No one misses me online.  Because no one knows who I am.  One day possibly, but for now – I’m just a silent writer who aspires to be much more.  Much, much more.

I was sitting in my bedroom the other night looking at my novel-in-the-works and my mind began to wander.  (It does that often.)  I began wondering what it would feel like to walk into a book store and see this large display of my book.  Books with my name at the bottom.  To stand there with the largest smile on my face because I know I accomplished something for myself, and now I am a published author.  I sat there and wondered what it would be like, what it would feel like, to know that I can go around and tell people that I am a published author. 

Then I began to wonder : would I actually tell someone that I am published author.  “Oh hi.  What do I do?  Oh, I’m a published author!  Take that bitches!” *snaps fingers in air*  No. I wouldn’t say that.  I might be thinking it.  But I honestly believe that I would still reply with the normal “I’m a security dispatcher at a the second largest casino in the world.”  

Other thoughts began to roam my brain.  I have read a lot of books in my life.  I love to read.  But if you google the authors of all of these books none of them, but one, is below the age of 30.  Is that because publishing companies don’t like to publish people below the age of 30?  Or is that because most people below the age of 30 cannot write a book well enough to even be considered a great book?  What makes a book great?  Worth publishing.  

I’m still on chapter seven.  I’ve been on chapter seven for nearly a month.  I am near the spot I wanted to be.  But I’m no where near finishing chapter seven.  Nor do I really know how to.  I got advice from an older guy I work with.  I’m not sure if I’ve ever said it before so just in case, he told me instead of writing from the beginning – to write to the end.  I have no idea how I’m going to end chapter seven.  I want it to end with a bang.  Something nice.  But what?

I need another brain.  A working brain.  I might talk to my ‘editor’.  Wait.  Not that kind of editor.  A friend that isn’t afraid to tell me the harsh truth to tell me that my “hick is showing”.  Stop giggling!  My hick shows a lot.  Sadly.  But honestly what do you expect from living in Southern Oklahoma all my life.  Shut up!  I know that you don’t have to show your hick.  It just depends on what I say.  I’ll work through it.  Stop giggling!

I don’t know.  I’ll figure chapter seven out somehow.  Or throw away the first six chapters and say to hell with it!