Before I add any more to this unsolicited pile of words, I simply must take some time to sort through what has accumulated; and, upon determining its relative worth, if any, put it in a more organized, slightly less perishable form. This will likely mean one or more additions to my Author’s Press Series, which has suffered (or perhaps benefited) from my inattention since my three-volume flurry of publication in 2009 and 2010.
For that reason, it will be necessary for me to step away from my online involvement for a time and focus on the work at hand. Granted, in the process, I may discover less of value than I have modestly allowed myself to expect; so be it. Whatever the result, there are a great many stories and notes to re-read, and well over a thousand poems (possibly twice that number) to assess; there remains, also, an unpublished novel, which trusted readers have said is at least as good, if not better, than A Listening Thing. And then there are the canvasses — who knows what, if anything, I should do with them?
Again, it is all relative. And since I am the closest relative — father, perpetrator, or what you will — of this mess, it is up to me to clean it up.
In the interim, beginning today, I will check Facebook for messages on a weekly basis. Email, the mode I far prefer, I will check daily. I flatter myself that some of you will want to stay in touch, and hope you will do so. Like reading, correspondence is my life blood. You already have my gratitude and respect; but for now — and I hope it will not be perceived as selfishly — I have to dig in, and deprive myself of your kind attention and efforts. I know, though, that I will savor them all the more upon my return.
Until then, you have my deepest thanks and warmest, very best wishes.