A Week Went By And Nothing. But

As A Writer, My Only Responsibility Is To Tell A Compelling Story.

Like Driving Along A Bumpy Road And Losing Control Of The Steering Wheel, Tossing You—just A Tad—off The Road. The Wheels Kick Up Some Dirt, But You're Able To Pull It Back. Yet No Matter How Hard You Try To Drive Straight, Something Keeps Jerking You To The Side. You Have So Little Control Over Anything Anymore. And At Some Point, The Struggle Becomes Too Much—too Tiring—and You Consider Letting Go. Allowing Tragedy... Or Whatever... To Happen.

I Needed A Break... From Myself.

This Was Not A Spurr-of-the-moment Decision. Do Not Take Me For Granted... Again.

Actually, I Love Trying To Figure Out Why Certain Books Become Hits While Others, Which May Be Just As Good, Have Trouble Finding An Audience.