I think that there's a mixture of frustration and condemnation in me. I certainly can't say that any of this has been what I thought it would be. Looking around my home, my progress, the motions and efforts I am making to further improve upon what I have, and feeling the lack of support featured where I most anticipate it--it's frustrating.My control freak tells me to be more frazzled. Push harder. Learn faster to better market, best sell, advertise, jump through this hoop, that hoop, hey, that one over there, too!But it's barely that I'm dissatisfied with my willingness to cooperate with the expected standard. More likely, I'm agitated that some of the things being demanded of me to "advertise" my work are utter nonsense.I believe in what I'm doing. How I've done it. Why. From the title all the way to the concept, and through to my hesitant exposure. The book self-screens. I drop anything remotely related to religion and those who are too witless, too set in their ways, or too politically correct run for the hills. But the intrigued, the curious, the brave...they stay. They poke, question, wonder, examine, and chew slowly to digest possibility. These are the readers I want. The people I want to love or hate the work. The ones who are stable enough to build a functional relationship with, who I can trust to finally lend that ever prized support.They are few. Unheard more often than not, and dug down deep into trenches where most of their socially adept yet "light switch" capacity peers wouldn't think to tread. I'm waiting for you. Though I'm not a patient or frequently cooperative person, you're worth the wait. I merely hope that I was, too.Ha. No wonder some people think of blogs a cathartic. I feel better. It's time to sleep!