This week was a momentous one on the journey to publish Tripio. The last post covered the final cover acquisition and transfer. That done, a few days later, my tech support dropped by and put Tripio in line to be approved for presale by Amazon.
I rose this morning with the expectation of working most all the weekend on Tripio. This time last year I was actually writing the novel. About the only similarity I see in the years is that the weather is cold, grey and unappealing. It is the kind of weather that uncovers an ugly midwestern day outside. No real motivation to take part that, hence it is a good weekend to stay in and write. No ,wait, I can’t. That was last winter.
I have already created a full to-do list for this weekend. None of it involves actual writing, however.
Hey, I am not bitching at all. I voluntarily took on publishing Tripio myself (with the help of dozens of others) and all the work that goes with that. I love having a to-do list and conquering it. That is part of the challenge and fun of it all.
Yet, I was a double espresso and regular cup of coffee into my to-do list and I wasn’t feeling it. A moment ago, I was standing in my kitchen pouring drip cup number two into my mug, when a line from the Big Lebowski popped into my head… “All the dude ever wanted was his rug back.” That line captured what I was feeling this morning about writing Tripio. All I ever wanted was to write that book.
I wrote it and miss writing it now. During that creative process I found strength in myself I never knew I had. With assistance from therapy, metaphysics, yoga and a lot more, I was able to unpack and discard things I no longer needed to carry. I also reached out of my vast yet tiny comfort zone, found fears there and kicked their asses. Writing Tripio has helped me in concrete ways as well. At work for example, I am now described as “most improved “and “content”. That is, I believe, a byproduct of undertaking the challenge of writing Tripio.
Nobody put a gun to my head and made me attempt to publish and sell Tripio. In fact, I may be undergoing a sort of postpartum separation period now as Tripio heads out to be a mere commodity and transaction. The Dude’s rug was no flying carpet. Yet Tripio took me places and continues to do so. But, for me the comparison holds up because, like the Dude and his rug, Tripio really tied my life together.
“May I help who’s next?”