I’ve just been booted from my latest writing group. In all fairness I never went so I do understand. And while we all want to be included in the cliques and have smoke blown up our asses, we would also like to be published and I don’t think that was going to happen as long as I stayed where it was comfortable, hence: I never went. I want to be published. I want an editor to kiss my ass and throw money at me. I want J K Rowlings dollars and readers. I want fanatical fans standing in lines wrapped three blocks around the corner of Costco to get a copy of my book and to just see me. I want to do what Oprah did for book clubs. I want it all. And while I am not hating on either ebooks or self publishing I don’t want to do it. I want my hardcopy book in the hands of every reader on the subway. I want the riders missing their stops because they can’t put me down. So I guess I’m trading comraderie and wine and soft critique for research and writing for four hours a day until its done and then finding an agent and a tough but honest writing group that I respect more than I like. It breaks my heart but it feeds my soul.