"The actual writing is what you live for. The rest is something you have to get through in order to arrive at that point."
— Raymond Chandler
Perched on a balcony overlooking Laurel Canyon pitching my brush with Nina’s death story to a film producer, I feel sufficiently shallow and quite at home with the Hollywood act.
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July Fourth went off without much fuss, Dodger Stadium and neighborhood revelers took care of pyrotechnics and my commitment to polish my resume and scan help-wanted websites had me on my own quest for freedom over the long weekend. With my steady gig affected by funding cuts I’m at a career crossroads and it’s time to get serious about passions and pursuits. Writing as a skill set has wide application. Not quite sure which pot to dip my quill in next.
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Damn! I missed the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books. I was psyched about the chance to hobnob and rub elbows with fellow readers and writers. I even talked to a group about getting space in their booth to promote *Death-Defying Nina*, but then I wasn’t sure how to handle selling an eBook. Maybe I could collect the dough and then whisk them a copy to their portable readers, something like that.
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Dodgers are playing tonight. Mood in the hood is buzzing with blue. Choppers hoover overhead and fans spill onto the streets, their hoots and hollers sound the hound alarm and Miss Daisy’s howling adds to the festive spirit.
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Most working (or trying to work) writers I know are harried creatures.
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. . . I felt my job was done. Yet that was just the beginning.
Read MoreLily Salter