A requiem

I made a deal with a self publishing company to publish my first book.  Big mistake by me.  I wrote the book fifteen years ago and laid it on the shelf where it should have stayed.  I dusted it off and offered it up to find out how the publishing world works.  I never considered any consequences.  I wrote the book to try and vanquish some demons living in my head in those days.  It worked pretty well until I dusted them off and set them free again.  I am at the point in my deal with the publishing house where I am obliged to do some radio interviews.  I haven’t slept well for three days.  I buried my young daughter eighteen years ago.  Those demons sprang to life in my head soon after.  I hoped I had buried those same demons after the therapy of writing that book granted me.  Wrong.  Now, in the process of trying to sell the book that should have stayed on the shelf, those demon bastards of my still grieving brain have risen up to do their dirty work on me once more.  I try to keep the spirit of my little girl close to me.  Those demon  bastards are like wolves hanging on the exposed intestines of a dying moose.  It sucks the joy and life out of my days to have to relive those days.  For a radio interview of a book that is best left on the shelf?


Well, done with the interviews.  They went OK I guess.

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