Time and life wait for no man or woman, and I feel it now more than ever, so it’s time to say a few things–even though what I write must necessarily be subjective, limited, and utterly one-sided, with not enough time for reflection and refinement (because the time doesn’t exist).

And sometimes, I like to say them in a blog post: instant relief or momentary catharsis.

But as the people I love and am connected with are a very complex web on which I depend, I sometimes feel I have gone too far, or am not ready. Or, that the price I am paying is not worth it.

Further, writing blogs (which I edit often) drains much time and energy at a time when I have around one million words already written, waiting to be edited, polished, and published in paperback form–the  only way, in my opinion, that books become real.  Because of the recent, Amazon-fueled culture of free, and of taking authors for granted, which I find deeply troubling and wish to be no part of, I am even thinking that blogs are counterproductive, reducing the incentive to buy and read real books (my book sales have plunged). Perhaps the way forward for me to continue is to work as a freelance editor while using gaps between assignments to complete and publish my own books (while avoiding draining distractions such as blogs)?