I’m marketing again. It’s not what I want to do, but a necessary part of writing. I’d much rather switch on my right brain than use my left brain and go through the hassle of pitching to agents or publishers. 
Like the dark lines on the Mask my husband sculpted in alabaster, the strain on my left brain has left its mark.
And yet I can’t believe how much I’ve written that remains hidden on my computer, as if locked in time. Will it see daylight? It might if I can please the gods of the literary world. Marketing and the inevitable rejections that come when there isn’t a match are part of the writing game.
For me, the hard part is screening the people out there who might be interested in what I have to say. Good thing I’m an optimist. No matter the outcome, it’s the process that counts. And the fact, that I love what I’m doing.
