Ramblings of a Middle Aged Lunatic

It is a picture that twists your heartstrings and brings a lump to your throat.   A dog, huddled into himself, emaciated, his ribs showing through his coat, nearly catatonic from starvation and neglect.   The name attached to the photo is a familiar one-Michelle DiGenarro, and her age is the same as mine, 44.                   I may know this woman, although I can’t place her.   I might have worked with her at one of the retail jobs I was employed at in the nineties.   If she’s who I’m thinking of, she gave off massive crazy vibes.   But that may not have even been her.                 My boyfriend thinks he may have gone to school with her, but he’s not sure either.   If so, she would have been a year or so ahead of him.             ...

  We're all looking for our money's worth these days.  After all, if statistics are to be believed, our salaries have not significantly increased since the seventies, and yet inflation has risen over a 100%.  It costs thirty dollars to buy two cheeseburgers from your neighborhood greasy spoon.  We're all looking for ways to save money, and when times are tight, entertainment is the first category to take a hit.  In that spirit, and also in an effort to help my fellow authors (writing a book is hard work-marketing it, ten times harder), I'm going to share the best Indie books I'd read occasionally on my blog in a new installment, Shannon's Cheap Book Picks.        I discovered Dylan Steel's Sacrasvita series purely by accident.  I stumbled across the first book in one of the daily emails I receive for cheap books and downloaded it, since it sounded interested and was free.              The day my mo...

Ponderings on The Playground                 My first book, The Playground , https://www.amazon.com/dp/B072823WZ9 is free this Easter weekend April 19-21, 2019.   Although it seems unbelievable, it’s been nearly two years since it was first published on Amazon.   Publishing it was a whim.   I had been trying for three months to get an agent, and I had just read that once an author accomplishes this, it takes another six months to find a publisher, and then another two years until the book is available for sale.                   I’m an impatient person.   That was too long of a wait.   I uploaded the book to Amazon, hit publish, and went to bed wondering if I’d regret it.   I haven’t yet.                 The Playground was ...

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                Today I’m going to tackle a controversial, hot topic within the Indie Author world:   Should authors review books on Amazon?                 The answer to this question is deceptively easy.   Why not? Well, there are legions of indignant authors and readers ready to answer the question why not .   Their response to that question is a resounding absolutely not .                   I was befuddled by this at first.   I mean, freedom of speech and all that.   Why should being an author take away your right to an opinion?   Then when I really got to thinking, I realized the naysayers had a point.   Mainly that once you become an author, your ability to offer an honest, critical review is vastly compromised. ...

                I used to think the rise of the internet and the advent of social media as being the most amazing thing to happen in our generation.   It gave someone like me, who has always struggled socially, the ability to connect with others on a deeper level, rather than struggling to make conversation during a chance encounter in the grocery store.   Over the years, I’d often thought that without it, I’d have morphed into a stereotypical virginal old maid, the sort of crabby patty who screeches at kids for stepping on their lawn.   Instead, I have been allowed to blossom socially despite my awkwardness.   I thought I would always be grateful for this invention.                 Since the 2016 election, I’ve changed that outlook.   I’ve begun to view Facebook and social media negatively.   First,...

It was a moment I’ll never forget.                 It was a Friday or Saturday night, and my then boyfriend and I were at his cousin’s house just outside Albany.   My routine was to drive two hours nearly every Friday after work and spend the weekend with him.   He had his kids on Saturday, so it was easier for me to come to him, a gesture he never appreciated in the time we were together.   On the contrary, he acted like he was doing me a favor by allowing me to visit.                 Sitting by the fire at his cousin’s house drinking beers and bullshitting was our weekend ritual.                 The topic unexpectedly turned to my writing.   The previous week, I’d emailed my boyfriend a copy of my novel, a dark piece tentatively title...