Another few days rattling around the independent author world, another batch of obstacles to overcome or avoid. At times I feel like I’m on a meandering hike through strange, divergent landscapes; at other times, like I’m taking a deep dive into gardening with all the forecasting, scheduling, replanting, weeding, & tending to do.

But at this moment, my journey reminds me more of being in a room full of adults fawning over a baby about to drift off to sleep. As the dutiful parent sways side-to-side in sync with their own humming or singing, it’s inevitable the other adults begin swaying in unison like a murmuration of starlings–a delicate dance countless generations in the making.

Maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to feel a bit less like a newborn in the publishing flock as the steady flapping around me slows ever so slightly—and for a fleeting moment I can actually sense which way to turn.

Till next time,

Drew