Santa Claus is Bringing You After the Tsunami (not)

My husband says we are now finally getting into the 21st century.  By that, he means we buckled down and purchased an e-reader.  I’ve read the pros/cons regarding both Amazon’s Kindle Fire, Apple’s version, and the Nook.  I wanted something that I could use on the road to check email, view documents, etc. but also use to read books.  I figured, heck I’m an author, I better know how an e-reader works!  It’s an investment in my career, if you will.

I went ahead and bought the Nook Tablet, which pretty much does whatever all I need it to do. I can check email, although it does not allow me to check my business email.  Doh!  After a frustrating few days, I realized that I can check it if I go through Yahoo’s business center login.  Then it’s just awful slow because it’s not a mobile webpage.  See, I’m learning the lingo.  I figured out also how to get books from my library onto it.  I’m not so much of a fuddy-duddy after all.  I do think I’m the last person on Earth to not have Internet on her phone.  I am the only one I know who does not, and I refuse to do that.  With Wi-Fi practically everywhere, why would I pay a separate monthly fee just so I could be “connected” 24/7?  I really tremble at the idea of being online all the time.  Of being accessible.

The customer service online/phone for the Nook is pretty bad.  I was told I couldn’t download a Yahoo email app because it does not support Yahoo email.  Huh?  But I am thankful so far I haven’t needed their unhelpful help.

I feel as though I am in some sort of waiting period.  I haven’t really wanted to work very much, not even write that much.  It’s a strange space I am in right now.  My husband says it is fatigue from the month-long practically 90 hours/week I was putting in during the book launch, but maybe he is being nice.

I finished a personal essay last week, which totaled almost 7,000 words.  I sent it to Memoir (and), but that’s the only place I’ve sent it to.  The only person who’s read it is my husband.  Perhaps that is a mistake, and I need more input.  But otherwise, I’ve been staring a lot out of the window in my office, watching the cars go by and the people check their mail.  Last week three gunshots were fired from a house down the street from us.  Apparently a house party got ugly, and a house party filled with National Guardsmen no doubt.  Police came, there was a stand-off, and we think we saw one of the participants flee the scene, but it was mid-morning, and we were still unsure of what we were seeing.  So I stare at that house trying to figure out what happened in there, and why I have not been able to find anything about it in the paper, and basically just procrastinating.  (I swear, I do not live in the ghetto.  Everyone here owns a gun and drinks.  It’s like a state law or something.)

Meanwhile, I received a pretty generic rejection from Boulevard.  The sales of my book on Amazon have gone down.  What?  No depressing book about starved, abused boys in an orphanage in India for a Christmas gift or as a stocking stuffer?  Come on, Santa!  Okay, I am being kind of silly.  Must. Sign.  Off.