Don't leave, I know we are dreaming

So, some statistics because Dude who sleeps next to me was asking for them.

Since September of last year I have written:
292,447 words (estimated from averaged word count per random page sampling)
640 pages (standard word document sized)
53 chapters
2 1/3 books

So, I internet-ed a bit and found that if it were to go into print format (5.5x8.5 format) that my books would be:

Book 1 Anri and Seth: Bloodbound 408 pages
Book 2 Anri and Seth: Demonbound 583 pages
Book 3 Anri and Seth: Feywilds  179 pages (so far at chapter 9)

Now...what to do...what to do. I am seriously considering trying to publish, even if no one buys it.  I wonder how many books are written every year that are in exactly the same place as mine...authors with no confidence wondering if they should or shouldn't just put out into the world what they have created.  I would hate to publish something if it was horrible, but I don't think mine is.  But it's mine, so I wouldn't right?  Wait, I know my self esteem.  I always think my stuff is horrible.  So if I actually think my stuff is good...

I think my head just exploded.  I will tell you this.  I'm no Brandon Sanderson or Neil Gaiman, so don't think I'm getting a big head.  But...maybe it's not so bad, right?  And, I totally recognize that I have a very limited audience.  But if even a few people like my story, well, then that's all good, right?

Now...editing.  Not for me, I just keep on writing.  I'm hoping to finish up this series by the end of the third book.

I'm a little afraid to end it, I love writing and I don't want to lapse.  I'm afraid I'd fall out of it if I went too long, you know?

She asked me how we got here, I told her I don't know,

And if you keep on asking I'll just keep saying so, this isn't what I wanted, it isn't what I mean, just let them keep on talking, don't you pay them any mind.

That's the full title of this blog.
Back to work.  I got to go canoeing yesterday, and I will get to go again tomorrow.  So far, so good on algae, too.

I should be writing, you know, real stuff like the novels I will never release, not a blog post.  I am about 2/3 done with my second one, and have plans for a third already because too much stuff happened in the second one to try to wrap up in a rush.  It's not like I'm gonna do anything with these anyway, so who cares, right?  I understand how these turn into crazy several part novels now.  It's weird, I'll thinking about what I want to write, and then when i sit down to write it, somehow the characters are like, 'nah, we don't like that idea, how about we do this instead, and you need to figure out how to get us out of this later, k? thanks!'.  Sometimes I feel like I plan events and then they go all askew without my permission.  I'm not even sure what that's all about but it happens a lot.

Anyway, life is kind of back to normal, which is nice.  Somehow there is never enough time in the day and that's nothing new to anyone ever anywhere.

This whole thing with the gorilla in Cincinnati, well, I met that gorilla kinda sorta a few weeks ago during the May major water circuit.  We were on an environmental sustainability tour of Cincy Zoo and he was super aggressive at the time.  We stayed too long by his enclosure and he started running back and forth, then splashed water at us across the moat.   The whole thing saddens me, and I'm really really tired of all of the shame-blame culture that we have around events like this.  You know, sometimes shit happens.  Sometimes people do dumb things.  Sometimes kids slip away in a blink of an eye and then bad things happen.  And sometimes people are just lucky it wasn't them, you know?

Also, as much as I like taking my kids to the zoo, zoos are horrible places.

So much distraction from real issues, from things that matter.  We should all prepare for our new American CEO, Mr. Trump.

We will see how the Republican National Convention goes next month.  I wanted to go see Ministry and Helmet but it's during the RNC and I worry that the city will be impossible to traverse.  They are having an anarchist national convention, you know, because.

Till there was little feeling, please work with what is left

Yo.  What's up.  You know what I did?  I wrote a whole book.  I did.  It took me six months of some writing here and some writing there.  But I finished it.  The whole thing.

But...now what?  I have no idea.  I'd like some other people to read it but I'm afraid to know what they think.

Also, it will have a pretty limited audience.  It's m/m urban romance.  I made dude who sleeps next to me read it.  He said he likes it, but he loves me, so he would say that, wouldn't he?

But..I think it's pretty good, and I hate myself on good days.  So, that has to mean something, right?  (Actually, I don't hate myself anymore.  Not really.  But...I'm still pretty not awesome.  Just, not hating.  Little teeny tiny baby steps.  Maybe I won't sound like the rest of the internet by the time the internet is in our brain stems or something.)

But you know what?  I wrote a freaking book.  23 chapters.  Isn't that crazy?  It seems like it to me.  Also, I'm three chapters deep into the second book.  Which is weird because the first one isn't really a book, just twenty three chapters sitting on my google drive.

But...fuck.  I did something.  I finished something.