It’s late, and I need to sleep, but something is nagging at me.

This blog has changed, and I’m not sure it’s for the better.

Every now and then I check statcounter, a website that tracks page views on your website.  Just now, I clicked a link to a page someone had discovered through Google, and found myself face to face with words I wrote five years ago.  They were the words of a scared, depressed, and uncertain young writer.  A person at war with himself, pondering the path he chose, and whether or not it would ever lead to that golden city of publication.

Oh, if I could only go back and warn that young writer.  I’d tell him that getting published is only the beginning of his worries.  I’d tell him, “You think getting rejection letters suck?  Try publishing a novel that won’t sell.  Try promoting so hard and so often that you chase all of your loyal blog readers away.”

I’d tell him to screw that shit, and just focus on the writing.

I’d tell him all of that, because the hard part of reading that old post wasn’t remembering the insecurity and fear of being unpublished.  The hard part was noting the stark contrast between my then intimate voice and style of blog writing compared to my now cold and calculating pitchman tone:

Step right up ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!  Do not be afraid of the novel you see before you.  It is the most surprising  amazing, mind-blazing book to hit shelves in two decades!  

I looked back at that old post and I saw over a dozen comments.  I look at my blog posts from the past month or two, and I see big, fat zeros staring back from the comment sections.  I’ve strayed.  I’ve pounded the drum too hard and too long.

It’s time for me to get back to the real work of writing, putting honest to god words into my stagnant second novel’s manuscript and leaving this sacred place to the tree-ripened fruit of a deranged writer’s mind.  The apples of which are sickly sweet and nearly rotten, but oh so heavy with sugar.

I still have a couple weeks left to this blog tour.  It will continue because it has to.  But I’m going to strive to get back to my blogging roots, and hope that some of my old friends will return.  Buy my book or don’t, it doesn’t matter anymore.  What matters is the community, friendship, and camaraderie that I remember so well.

Happy October, my friends.  It’s time to carve a Jack O’ Lantern out of this rotten blog, and stick a motherfucking candle in it to light my way.

Here I come.