Once upon a time art was more prevalent than it is today. You can see it in old city architecture. There was an era prior to everything having to be maximized for profit. Buildings became concrete and mirrors because it maximized square footage and cut out all the expense of fancy stone cuttings and fancy glass work. The days of those elaborate entries and carved spiral staircases are over.

This change has taken place across all the artistic fields, and is only accelerating. Music is a prime example. That industry is geared toward single hits and as many clicks as possible. Gone are the titans who defined eras. Ozzie, Bowie, Meat Loaf, Charlie Watts, Lennon; all gone. Nobody is coming up to take their places, even if the musical tone has changed. I’m afraid all of our stars will be more like Huntrix from now on. Corporate created and controlled.

There are so many gatekeepers guarding the velvet ropes these days that it loses its appeal. For authors it becomes a never ending effort to find whatever avenue might temporarily open up before it closes. For most of us it involves finding it, just after it closes. It becomes more time consuming than actually writing the books.

Way back, artists made art because they enjoyed it. This could be visual, audio, or any number of performance based arts. There were tons of garage bands, cooks who weren’t chasing a reality show, people who threw pottery, and even those who wrote down old family stories so they wouldn’t be forgotten. Love not glory.

This is where I am today. I’m knitting my metaphorical granny squares and have no intention of stopping. I have never once spent money on an advertising campaign that broke even. However, I love writing. Publishing is the completion of the loop. I’ll continue to do all of that probably for the rest of my days.

I don’t have the desire to throw money into bottomless pits that bring nothing back in return. I refuse to expend energy or calories trying to spread the word any longer. That path leads to gatekeepers with their hands out.

I am now the garage band of authors. You won’t find me in the bookstore, but I’m around. Stop by and you might have a pretty damned good time. I have books available, and there will be more. Those who give them a shot and have fun with them are my payoff. I love you guys.

Grandma’s homemade mincemeat took days of her effort, and I never understood it. I get it now. Her payoff was everyone enjoying her pie and she had no expectation of a Cooking Channel show. I really do get it.

Maybe it takes age and seasoning, but I am actually content. I’ll never have to help cast the Netflix series for Lizzie and the hat, but I can still have a great time writing them. Maybe someone will come back for seconds and that is enough.

My imagination is still vivid and crazy. I love the craft and the journey of improvement. This is a journey with no end, but the growth along the way is wonderful.

Just in case, there are links in my sidebar. I have been pretty prolific over the years and you might find something fun there.

I am content, and I certainly hope all of you are, too.