From the Quiet of a Forest

So I've not posted here in two months. Sometimes I think about deleting my blogs and just starting over. But it's not that simple.

I think about this blog a lot. I feel bad because it never got the visitors I hoped it would. People just aren't interested in Swords of Fire. Certainly not agents. What a pity. Swords of Fire means so much to me.

Swords of Fire remains on my mind a lot, despite my lately working on stories which have nothing to do with it. That Swords of Fire should not invoke enthusiasm from others is disappointing to the extreme. I suppose I could take the time out and rewrite it yet again. I've lost track of the number of rewrites the story has been subjected to. It's changed over the years. As have I.

It began in 1973 or 1974. I'm never quite sure now. Those were just ideas. In 1976 I wrote the true beginnings of what was to become a life's work. That was called, White King of Ladondo. I don't think that copy exists anymore. The map certainly doesn't. That was drawn on the paper wrapping for a queen-sized mattress. Greatest map I've ever drawn.

I screwed up my life. From the beginning I got everything wrong. And it's cost me. Cost me dearly. The amazing thing about that is, I'm supposed to be a genius or something. Got the I.Q. for it anyway.

But I let others dictate my decisions. I believed them when they told me I should 'want this', 'do that', 'go there'. And I was afraid. That more than anything has just made my life hell. Afraid to say "I love you" to the people I loved. Afraid to really try and be what I wanted to be. Afraid to go where I wanted to go.

And now I'm old.

Too old to do so many things I wanted to do. They are youth dependent. And now I'm also out of money. Too broke to go where I want to go and do what I want to do.

So what about Swords of Fire? If it's ever going to be published I expect it is going to have to be rewritten. Am I too old to get it done? It's getting harder and harder to believe. You know?