Love's Last Refuge

It’s never really a clean slate, is it?

Happy New Year!

Though… to be honest, I’m not really feeling that uplifting hope and promise for better times ahead.

It’s more like this…

The ARe debacle is that horrid gift that keeps on giving. The site is officially shut down. I refused to sign the so-called “agreement” and filed a complaint with the FBI. I plan to do the same with the states of FL and CA.

Unfortunately, there’s no way to ascertain if the embezzlement went beyond the 4th Qtr. I suspect it did. ARe/OmniLit was my primary sales venue. All but two of my 30+ titles were bestsellers, with consistently steady sales, even during periods when overall ebook sales declined. By mid-summer, sales were zero or close to it for weeks, then months at a time. It doesn’t take a mathematician to figure out something’s rotten in Denmark.

Meantime, authors scramble to find alternatives to the Swamp-that-be-Amazon. Some suggest forming co-ops, others may try selling off their websites, a few (like me) flirt with giving up on writing/publishing.

We, all of us, go into these arrangements—as consumers, content providers, worker bees—extending a certain amount of trust that we will be treated well, with respect and consideration. We almost *have to*, because to not do so would stymie even the simplest of everyday transactions, be they economic or otherwise.

And all of us, at one time or another, have had to face the sad fact that trust is indeed a precious commodity, a resource that seems to be decreasing as we move ever further into the digital, corporatized age of greed and entitlement.

Sadly, this morning, when I checked… that Trust Jar was empty.

But all is not lost. That’s not the only Trust Jar I draw on. I am blessed to have one filled with goodwill, friendships, love and caring built up over the years—the kind of trust one earns through those special connections time and circumstance award us on our journey through this life. That jar has no dimension, it’s neither large, nor small. It’s always just right.

Now, ask yourself… so what if the slate isn’t sparkling clean? So what if it’s crusted with the smears of a year’s worth of trials and trevails. Like the lines on our faces as we age, those smudges are reminders we have a history, one that cannot—and should not—be erased, for otherwise, how would we learn from our mistakes?

It’s just another year, one by which I get to measure age (whoop-ti-effing-do) and the passing of time. Be it 2017 or the Year of the Rooster, it’s just a number.

I’d rather measure the moments in my life by reaching into that dimensionless jar and pulling out a memory, sharing it, cherishing it… because that jar never empties, you see. It just keeps expanding the more you pull from it.

To my readers, my eternal gratitude for your kind words and loyalty.

To my friends… well, y’all know how I feel.

To my fellow creatives, bon courage.

And if 2017 doesn’t get its act in gear and realign the stars?

I say this…


Oh… and about those resolutions?