marketing myself

I hate self-promotion.  I tell myself that people should love me for who I am, what I can do, and not make me dance like Naomi Watts for King Kong.

Because that’s what self-promotion is: a big mean ape who pushes you around.

But whatcha gonna do? You decided you wanted to A) get a new job, B) go back to school, C) start a new business, D) get married/divorced or E) be recognized for your artistic talents. So you forfeit part of your free will and dignity to make that happen.

The good news is the internet makes it easy to do this from home.  The bad news means that everyone is doing it.  I e-publish in a very crowded market. I accept this.

Still, I find myself wanting to hire someone to do all this for me, except (aye, there’s the rub) I can’t do that until I make more money, and I can’t make more money without dancing for the big mean ape.

king kong yell.jpg

At this point, I usually point out to my daughter the fallacy of mega-monsters like King Kong and Godzilla, and that is… they require a huge biomass of food to stay alive.

True, they are meat-eaters which means they get more bang for the buck, but still. Are there really enough smaller, tastier monkeys on that island for Kong to eat?  And maybe there are enough fish in the sea for Godzilla but what about the other Big Baddies?

Picking apart Hollywood drivel. Just saying. Science FTW.

All of this is beside the point of the post, of course.

And what is the point of the post, pray tell?

I have enough poems written to publish another book of poetry by the end of the month, so… I think I am going to enter a poetry contest in the meantime.

panic button.jpg

I wish there were a button on my computer that I could hit when I feel panic.  Some handsome man with a Scottish accent (kilt optional) could bring me a hot toddy.

Whatever the hell a hot toddy is. I think it involves whiskey and warmth. Maybe butter.

All of which I will say hell-yes to.

I think there might be cuddling involved to.  If not, I need to get a new panic button.

Anywho…. I have a poem to post.  I didn’t include garden in my last poetry collection, so that will be the first poem in the new collection.

I am thinking of calling the book the primrose path.  Probably more about nature and adventure than food and drink, this one.


tiny hinged box
that has no locks,
is where I hide my heart.

amid the gold
in pirate’s hold,
is where I hide my heart.

buried in dirt
sparing it hurt,
is where I hide my heart.

under the X
circled with hex,
is where I hide my heart.

paper and code
the motherlode,
is where I hide my heart.

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Hours I own all of these ideas, but none of these images.
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