Archive for October 17th, 2011


Today I’m just catching y’all up on some Layla training and writing stuff, to whit…

MYOPATTERNING:  Also called floor barre pilates.  I had my third class on Saturday and I can already see the difference in my body.  I mean… dang!  This stuff really works in terms of shaping the body by exercising little muscles along with the big ones while simultaneously stretching them.  My various parts do seem a little leaner and curvier, and, all practical aspects of getting in better shape aside, looking good is important for us action heroes.  So far I’ve had the classes from two of the female instructors, who are both very slim yet freakishly strong.  Another thing – the class is 90 minutes long but both instructors like to run over the time period, which means an hour and forty-five minutes of working out on a straps-and-springs machine that could pass for a torture rack.  Whoopee.

LOCKPICKING:  I am so not happy to find out that my skills have slid backwards.   I figured that once I got the basics down they’d stay with me, but apparently not. It’s been only two or three months since I did some serious picking, and I’ve definitely lost some of the feel and speed.  Thus I gotta make it a habit to pick more often.  I’ve also got to send in for a couple more finer and stronger torques and look into learning about lock bumping.

POST-PUBLISHING EMOTIONAL STATE:   Oh lordy, I am so all over the place.   One minute I’m elated at the slightest hint of a compliment from anyone for The Compass Master, and the next I’m spiraling down into a pitch-black brooding depression.  One minute I’m glad and relieved and proud of myself for my self-publishing effort, the next I’m plagued with doubts and swear I should have slogged along the traditional route, never mind that at one point I had an agent and TCM came heart-breakingly close to being picked up by a publisher.

Which is why I enjoyed a recent piece in the New York Times by an author who gloomily summarized her literary efforts:

“The life of a printed book goes something like this: bookstores, Amazon bargains, used bookstores, free bookshelves, landfills. And then, someday, we all die.”

Ain’t that cheerful?  And she was published by one of the big houses.  So let this be a lesson to all us writers:  publishing is not for wusses.  Doesn’t matter if you go self-pub or traditional pub.  You must have heart and soul and tough-as-nails literary gonads to put your stuff out there.  And you might as well try to enjoy the process and dance and celebrate because in the end… in the end…

Oh, hell!  Now I’m depressed again.