June 25, 2007 CURRENT CURRENTS Some days it seems I’m swimming for dear life in this ever-changing river with its cross-currents, undertows, treacherous shoals. I’m still writing western novels that are under contract, but I no longer see any more on the horizon, the distant shore. So, it seems I’m either heading for dangerous rapids or may run my canoe over the falls and crash into a deadly maelstrom. Of course I am planning ahead and have some proposals making the rounds. The slow rounds. But, I’m bucking a current that streams from under ground, bursting from an old spring that shrieks “western writer” and forgets that I am not genre-bound and do not live entirely in the past. Yet, the past has a way of circling, and recently I was asked to read my poetry at Crossroads, in Winnsboro, Texas. Sometime in July, with a young poet I’ve never met. Crossroads is a wonderful place and is filled with music on weekends. They have also conducted songwriting workshops and asked me if I would conduct a short story workshop this coming fall. I said I would to both requests. Of course, I’ve read my poetry before live audiences many times before, in San Francisco, Hollywood, Los Angeles, San Bernardino and in Arkansas and Missouri. Charlotte is going to type up a number of my published poems, setting them in large boldfaced type so that I can see the words and read them aloud. Still a challenge, since I have to wear special high-magnification eyeglasses and hold the paper very close to my face. I have almost no vision in my left eye and less than 10% in my right eye. I can see fairly well within 4 or 5 inches of an object. I am, of course, grateful for the limited peripheral vision I do possess. Since I have no retinas, I have to scan everything to make sense of it. I cannot see anything straight in front of me. Doctors tell me that 90% of vision is in the center of the eye. I have large holes in my centers. The fight goes on in other areas, as well. Since none of my series contracts have been renewed and publishers are not buying new projects, my income dropped off sharply last year. I earned a mere $10,900 from advances last year. No royalties from any publisher. Low sales do not generate royalties. My royalty statements are flocked with zeros. And, I have earned 0 dollars this year from commercial publishing. My only writing income has come from a few subscriptions to Story A Month (available on www.help4writers.com), and in my second year of providing this service, I lost subscribers, gained new ones, but am still below the number I had during the first year. I also provide critiques and mentoring and this has brought in a small amount of income. These services have helped us buy some food when our bank accounts were depleted, but has never been enough to pay our monthly bills. I still have hopes that my subscription list will grow and that I can conduct enough workshops to keep us afloat in a drowning sea of debt. So far, at this writing, there is some interest in my conducting workshops, but no solid offers. So, my day may have passed without my knowing it. I’m still in there, but some may have written me off as a has-been. Better that, than being a never-was, but it still hurts when I believe I have so much to offer. And, I’m fighting like a tiger to break through on a number of fronts. My latest battle is against a condition called “chemical cellulites.” I had this once before and was hospitalized at the VA hospital in Temple, Texas. My right leg began to swell and ache. Small red dots appeared like an attack of measles from ankle to knee. This was, I was told, iron surfacing from my blood. Cause? That was the leg where doctors removed the saphenous vein to repair my heart when I had triple bypass surgery a few years ago. I had to lie in bed with leg elevated above my heart. This was to let gravity return the blood back up my leg. It was a long, painful process before my leg returned to normal. In the hospital, the swelling and iron blobs began to course past my knee. The doctors told them that if I ever got chemical cellulites again, the leg would turn black and they would have to amputate. I was thinking of this when my leg began to break out with those cursed dots, swell and throb. So, I’ve been sleeping with my leg propped up, and stopping work several times a day to lie down on the futon in my office and elevate the leg. I’ve been walking 2 miles a day, from 3 to 5 times a week. With a cane. This has been tough, because of neuropathy in my feet (I have Type II diabetes) and my legs below the knees turn stiff and wooden about a mile into the walk. Yesterday, I cut the walk short to avoid a grade which put the strain on my calves and feet. Of course I feel better after these walks and am dropping weight once again. All of these activities have set me behind in my writing schedule. I am now very late with at least 3 books. I missed their deadlines by a wide margin. I’m working on Savage Gun #3, which will probably be the last of that series at Berkeley. Next, I must write Shadow Rider #3, also doubtful that this series will continue past 3 books. I do have a new novel coming out, officially, on July 3rd, THE SUNDOWN MAN, from Berkley. It is a single title and I hope it does well. I don’t pretend to understand the mechanics of distribution, but I can read royalty statements, and my audience has dwindled to a precious few. As for BLOOD SKY AT MORNING, the first of the Shadow Rider novels, I have gotten more positive fan mail on that novel than any other in recent memory. I don’t know when the 2nd one of these will be published, but I know the book is in production at Harper Torch. So, this is where I stand, or swim, with half of 2007 gone. I’m happy, productive, full of hope, and gaining power in my writing as I can continue to learn and practice the craft. My hope is that more people subscribe to Story A Month and that I can continue to guide and teach in future writing workshops. And, one of these days, I hope editors will take a look and see that I can, and have, written in other genres besides western. Meanwhile, I have really lost nothing. Life is good. The writing continues to fascinate and teach me. The spirit cannot lose. It can only grow stronger within the work itself. I continue to be who I am. A storyteller. Jory Sherman