Carnivore Dreams – Rip Van Winkle

That’s me. That’s how I felt today.

I’ve had a headache for a couple days, so I decided to rest and fast today and maybe tomorrow. No cleaning, little cooking, feed and care for my charges. I essentially decided to not move, hold still.

In the last couple days, some writer/teacher friends of mine (I found out had not cancelled me) wanted to include a story of mine in an anthology they were putting together on the Upper Peninsula and wanted a fishing story. I guess it will be all fishing stories. They’d read one years ago I’d had published in Gray’s Sporting Journal. They’d be happy to take an old story. So I promised to tweak a version and get it to them. They said it was by invitation only since they wanted only fine work.

So though my head is fuzzy, I start looking around online. First, I googl myself mostly by accident since a friend had sent a photo from a historical journal of my husband as Romeo Village President, standing in a parking lot and a picture of me showed up. As I was going through pages (maybe 2) of things about my writing life, it seemed almost like someone else’s life, I came across an entire piece I’d written on the writing life for Passages North at Northern Michigan University. I had no memory of writing it, or little, but it floated back to me. Finally.

Then it floated back to me that I used to have an author’s page on Amazon that tracked sales of my books. It appears now they have not only self-publishing opportunities but marketing tools. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered paying for some kind of promotion maybe on Amazon three years ago–oh no, I think I did that on WordPress maybe, promoting this blog? I really can’t remember. Is that possible on WordPress? Oh, I finally remembered. It was on Facebook I boosted my posts and paid for it with a link to my website. Not sure how Amazon ads work. Hmmm.

It really feels like I’ve awoken (awakened?–I’ve never known which) like Rip Van Winkle from what was it, a 100-year sleep? It feels as though I have dust (or maybe rust?) in my brain. I suppose it was the three years of stress taking care of my dad until he passed. And the fact that I didn’t realize quite how “asleep” I’ve been is becoming suddenly apparent. I need to visit the Wizard for a brain, I think. Mix some metaphors. Perhaps my advanced years are contributing.

And I’m always foggy when I get headaches.

But sometimes when you stop moving physically and get quiet, things start happening–creativity arrives. Not that I’ve been very creative, but at least I seemed to remember a bit of who I once was. I’m thinking of publishing one of my projects myself instead of university presses (so I need to know about publishing and marketing on Amazon) and one project seems I might attract a commercial publisher.

It’s a start.

Maybe next I’ll cut my beard.

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