It’s rare for me, but I’m struggling a bit with my writing. Perhaps this has something to do with writing nearly 200,000 words about my only son, who I’m no longer able to commune with.

Sending out something this personal and connected to my grief journey is daunting. I’ll eventually learn whether anyone thinks my book is any good. Quite likely, I’ll have to weather a season filled with notes of rejection. I just received one this week.

Actually, I’m not tired of writing. I’ve developed a number of drafts detailing how shitty some people have been to Mary and me over the past 19 months. They’re honest that’s for sure. But I’m positive these assholes couldn’t handle having a mirror held up for them, showing them what fakes and phonies they are. So instead of posting, I’ve just been filing them away.

Possibly my recent lack of content development might also be associated with my personal physical challenges I’ve been living with this summer. SI joint pain hasn’t been fun. I am getting better, but if I do too much, I have setbacks.

I have been writing for hire. The auto trade folks have been assigning articles and my Island Journal piece on Bucksport finally landed. It was a year ago that I was gathering details, driving down the coast for interviews, and figuring out where I might find a home for an article on the demise of yet another paper mill in Maine. My persistence paid off even after I got several “thanks, but no thanks” replies from editors at big city papers and regional super mags. The Island Institute’s beautiful annual publication actually ended up being an excellent landing pad for my efforts, telling the story about what happens when a town’s legacy industry shuts down. Not only is Island Journal a good fit, but my byline sits side-by-side with some of Maine’s better-known freelance writers, like Edgar Allen Beem, Carl Little, Abigail Curtis, and Jennifer Van Allen.

In good writing company.

In addition to freelance writing, the powers that be regulating Medicare insurance transactions require agents like me to be certified every year. While our liar-in-chief can continue spewing falsehoods every time he opens his big fat mouth, or send out washed-up former mayors to add more lies to a never-ending litany of obfuscation, Medicare is concerned about fraud. Give me a fucking break!

But, government is really good at being “penny-wise and pound-foolish” in seeking conformity at the nickel and dime level, while the political grifters at the very top get to  perpetuate their never-ending graft and corruption.

As a consequence, I’ve been spending far more time memorizing byzantine details than is warranted for something that passes as a very part-time gig for me.