White knuckled in the white out.

That describes my nine mile commute down a NW Wisconsin county road at eight o’clock this morning. The weather guys called the blowing snow “pesky” the night before, one or two inches top. Of course, as I’ve mentioned previously, Meteorology up here tends to be more an art than a science. The husband and I guessed more like 4 or 5 inches of snow this morning, drifting to six or eight as I drove in. Personally, I think “pesky” was a bit of an understatement.

The back window of my car was completely opaque after the first couple miles. The plow had made a token run earlier in the day, so there was something reassembling a path to follow. Still, it’s the inevitable unknown that’s so nerve wracking, as you take your foot off the gas, strangle the steering wheel, and carefully coast the car through the drift that has worked its way across the road in the meantime. Never mind, taking a hill and praying you don’t meet a car coming from the other direction who is using the same barely scraped ten feet of cleared road that you are. At least I wasn’t tailgated by some “compensator” with four wheel drive and no manners. Thank God for simple blessings, I guess.

Anyhow, you might ask what all this whining has to do with writing, which is suppose to be the purpose of this blog.¬† My answer would be, nothing really. But I do sense a metaphorical correlation to my feelings about book marketing. It would not be an exaggeration to say that at times, marketing my books feels like I’m groping¬† blindly through a mass of complete ignorance, grasping at anything that I might hold onto for stability.

How do I get to you people with my writing and most of my sanity still in tact? How do I find you without getting stuck in the piles of ubiquitous mediocrity drifting in from all sides? I have a destination, but the journey is not a smooth one from my perspective. I can’t seem to see very clearly where I am on the path.

Guess I had just better hang on and push through.


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