Tripio The Novel

How I found my mind, brewed some coffee, and learned to write novels.

A funny thing happened to me yesterday on the way to do my grocery shopping. This was after I went back inside to find my cloth face mask. As I drove off with my mask in the car I was singing aloud to an old Funk Compilation CD that I have been listening to recently. Take a moment now to say a gratitude that this is not a podcast.

 But seriously folks… Just before I left for the store I had checked my sales  graph for Tripio. The arrow was pointed downwards with a vengeance. Hmmm. Was this confirmation that Tripio sucks? Sure, if I let it be. Maybe it was also confirmation that I should keep up my writing. You are curious why I should keep it up exactly when the arrow points down, the arrow that bestows approval and validation on Tripio and  by extension me, is telling me to quit?

 Since you asked,  I was filled with song because my reaction to the arrow was confirmation of what I always claim; that I ain’t in this writing for money, fame and rankings. So, sleep soundly, James Patterson, I’m not coming for you.

 Come to think of it, like James,  I slept in yesterday. To clarify, for me that means 6:30 a.m. That night’s rest had a  significant part in boosting my spirits. I had nothing urgent to pull me out of bed to the keyboard. When I was in the process of revising Back outta the World for the last time I would be pulled out of bed by the need to get it finished. Sometimes that meant my eyes would open as early as 4 a.m. My physical body was pissed, but got over it soon after I had my morning doppio. ( never fear-I have an espresso machine at home). My emotional,spiritual and mental bodies were in charge then. Now with Back outta the World done, I decided to  give myself a break. After some contemplation, I decided to halt the search for an editor and take a break from writing.  Well, I am still blogging and working on a short story or two. My four bodies had come to an agreement and I was able to sleep in.

    So here I was, singing along to “You dropped a bomb on me” on the way to the store yesterday morning. I was happy that my sense of self, my intention for all this writing  had been confirmed. I have said all along that writing is merely one of the results of a well-tended Mind Garden. My singing proved me right yesterday. I am as good as my word. Which is pretty important if you are a writer.

                                                “May I help who’s next?”

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