Saturday, December 17, 2022

Christmas, writing, and other disasters

      As I said last year, publishers close down in December, one of mine for a month, the other for two weeks. I have a new book coming out at the end of January, Edie's Sinner,, so not much to do between now and then. I am grateful that the new Sinners book will not be out until January 30th as it will be safe from the TicToc scam that robbed me of nearly all of my royalties for 2022. Really, I should spend months creating a new book for some TicTocer to read while sipping a Starbucks coffee that costs more than my e-books, only to have them send it back in the seven day period for a refund that cancels my modest royalty. Evidently, they hated my Sinners series so much they read and returned them all, and I got not a cent. In the spirit of Christmas, I am trying to forgive them for being so naive they thought they were  harming Amazon.instead of thousands of authors who only get a $1.68 a book from each book read. I doubt Amazon and big name authors noticed while those with a small following were crushed. On to other disasters.

     With planning for a family visit, getting all the decorations up, and gifts purchased, I had scant time to write, which happens every year, but I did get an unexpected incentive from an unwelcome incident, a tornado strike a block from my house. As I removed cookies from the oven, the TV weatherman said, "A tornado is headed for downtown New Iberia"--and then the lights went out. Downtown is two miles away and full of historic houses, the museum and library, the courthouses, and many small local businesses. I said a little prayer for them and got out my storm radio, candles, flashlights, etc. that we keep on hand for hurricanes. I did not hear the train a comin' at the end of street where three houses were severely damaged after the tornado finished blowing out the windows of the hospital across the bayou and moved on to destroy a dentist's office and a Dollar Store across the street. I did not know what had happened until my husband, who was out running errands, called and said he could not get home because the main street was blocked off by emergency vehicles and police. I'd heard the sirens but they seemed to be moving away from our area. Eventually, the police turned the massive traffic jam around. He got home a half hour later from a one mile trip to the grocery for milk by going miles out of the way.

     The power returned at four p.m. after being out about five hours in time for a hot dinner.  However, though the phones worked, both land line and cell, television and computer service did not--for two days. I could fire up my desktop and write all day, but not much else. At least, friends and family who saw the destruction on the news were able to get in touch to ease their worries. Some messages came from as far away as Pennsylvania, my native state. It was comforting that so many thought about us. So, I did write, missed the finale of Ghosts, but watched Broken Wood and Brother Cadfael DVDs, and counted my blessings that our house still stood strong and undamaged, only some sugar cane debris from a nearby field dotting our yard. Very sorry for our neighbors who will be months or years rebuilding.

     Leaving the neighborhood was difficult as the exit street remained closed with a police car blocking the road at either end. I managed to get out by skirting the road and cutting across the convenience story parking lot to reach my water exercise class the long way around, but on coming home wet and ready for a hot shower, was stopped by the cops and asked for ID to enter the neighborhood. I rarely take my license to the pool, was sure I had it on my phone, only found my Covid ID card, no good as it had no address on it, was pawing in the glove compartment for my car registration all the while saying, "I live right there just behind you." Finally, the officer got tired of waiting, and told me to just go home. I guess I didn't look like looter or lookie-loo. Next day, same routine going in and out as the power company set the utility poles upright again with massive machines, but I kept my license out on the dashboard. Absolutely grateful they were looking out for the neighborhood and aiding in getting those poles back up, but what a hassle.

     And so I come to the end of my disasters to wish all of us free of hurricanes, tornadoes, blizzards, earthquakes, and  forest fires in the New Year and gain readers that appreciate a good book enough to pay for it.