Dismantle My Bed

You may be reading my site and thinking, “Hey, I’d sure like to be sleeping on boxes of my own self-published, unsold books!” You may even have already written said book. So, are you ready? I don’t know. Are you ready?

Remember, self-publishing isn’t just about writing a novel that you think is worth reading (even if no one else on the planet agrees). There is actually a great deal of behind-the-scenes work you must do prior to even thinking about sending your novel off to the printer to become a published book. And it’s not all creative. Some of it is actually focused on the business aspect of self-publishing.

This series will discuss the necessary steps to becoming your own publishing house, legally. Registering a business name, obtaining a tax ID number, etc.

It’s not fun, but somebody has to do it, and if you want to be your own boss, sadly, it’s probably going to be you.

So, we’ve switched apartments… again, because we are gypsies and that’s what we do. We haven’t switched cities. Not yet. Sadly. But six months. Six months. Six months. Only six months.

And instead of moving the large and heavy platform on which mattress and box springs were resting, and instead of moving the mattress and box springs, we moved only the book boxes, like sixteen hundred pounds worth of them.

The book boxes have been layered with an air mattress, a comforter, and a lovely piece of body-molding foam. It’s actually the most comfortable bed on which I have ever slept… except for the one that one time at this cool hotel in LA. They somehow made that the cushiest thing ever. It was the Magic Castle hotel, so I think it might have been… you guessed it… magic. Anyway, of any of the beds I have owned, this one is pretty damn comfortable.

It’s ghetto, but it works for us. It also frees us of our large material possessions, which we will need to get rid of anyway, before moving back to LA later this year.

So, life is rough right now. A whole lot of work. No time or money for fun. But, in the end, the debt will be paid off, and the sky will be the limit. Six months. We can do it in six months.

I love to sneak in writing at work. Actually I will sneak in writing pretty much any place. Funerals. Classes. Grocery shopping. Theater performances. No, I’m kidding. I don’t sneak in writing at theater performances.

I’m also linked to at Complete Slacker on a couple of posts. Check it out. Then rejoice with me. But don’t be mad if I’m writing while we’re rejoicing.

No one helped me do it. I had to do it all by myself. Since I used a fair amount of sticky tack to put up my inspirational materials, it was way more work than I would have liked for it to have been. My writing room has now officially been dismantled though. Now I can move it across town, set it back up, only to have to take it all down again in six months when I once again flee my living quarters.

There are wonderful things about being a gypsy. This is one of the things that isn’t so much.

The Da Vinci Code has some merits, though whether those merits are owed mostly to Dan Brown or to the men who accused him of stealing the ideas they put forth in their non-fiction book is debatable. Where the book has merit is in the storyline itself. As far as plot goes, it is, for the most part, intriguing. What The Da Vinci Code lacks, in my own personal opinion though, greatly overshadows what it has to offer. The writing is commonplace. The dialogue is cheesy. The characters are either devoid of human traits (Robert and Sophie are nearly perfect in every way) or are too over-the-top (everyone else in the novel). I found myself doing a fair amount of skimming while trying to get through this book, and I am not a skimmer.