Quick fixes

Week 2 of trying to figure out how to get my book published.  I am absolutely amazed at how many hoops people have to jump through.  It is exhausting and frankly, seems like the deck is stacked against us unknown authors.  Why?  How does one go about getting known in the market place?

Start a blog.  Keep writing.  Hope.  Pray.

The online world is saturated with unfounded conclusions.  Full to the brim with opines everywhere.  The digital world is awesome -don’t get me wrong-  we are building a generation of know-it-all’s that can process information at amazing speeds.  But coming to conclusions about what we are processing so much more quickly thanks to this communication is not necessarily any better.

Why?  Not everyone is on board with this new brand of communication….there’s still a whole ton of information missing yet people are walking around like their opinions are thought out enough to fight and defend.  I’ve witnessed some pretty intensely worded comments and posts that turn into out right threats of physical harm …over an opinion.

So here’s my opinion.  I have written a book that’s good.  That I wrote it while living in a homeless shelter, that I wrote about the difficulties every homeless person faces, that I provide thought provoking questions and advice regarding what I’ve witnessed, that it is essentially a mirror people have been avoiding looking into makes it not just a good book, but an important one.

Homelessness has been a solvable problem for too long.  We have forgotten our humanity when we step over someone who is sleeping on concrete.  Voiceless homeless men and women die out there every day.  They need people to wake up to the realities they have created.  You become homeless because you’re poor.  I have met far more vets and disabled homeless people than drug addicts.  Once you’re there, however, once you realize that everyone you meet will assume it is your own fault, it is like starting down the barrel of a gun.

I’m still staring down the barrel of that gun.  I have 3 months.  The clock is ticking.  If I can’t get a bite, I’m back on the streets.

Tick tock.  Tick tock.  Tick Tock.



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