Surfing

My weekend was spent surfing. I glided from one wave to another in that vast ocean of information catching glimpses of strange and far off lands (the wild world of publishing) and people just like me, writers and indie-publishers, lining the shores. Again, all I can say is, "Yikes!"

I thought my surfboard was unique. I thought that if I floated it past every buoy, stopping to post a message, if I offered it for free I'd be, well, special. As it turns out, there are thousands of surfers out there doing the same thing, offering free rides for a few days to build interest and momentum, flying "Read Me" flags, and waving to each other to exchange stories and information and books.

I feel sore and tired today, the muscles in my legs cramping from clenching my toes to stay afloat but I am heartened that I am not alone out here. I've discovered little inlets of hope and inspiration and people who have sailed these waters before. Having stuck my toe into the waters, I'm preparing for my next big adventure, reading the maps and gearing up. With gritted teeth and fingers crossed, I'm setting sail for what I hope will be friendly shores, a land called, "Agent." I'll let you know what happens.