Letting Her Rip
Finding a way to escape America’s sad-ass reality
After yesterday’s election, I think I’ll leave here for a while. Leave the country. The planet. The stratosphere.
I need to get away from this nightmare. I want to get as far away as possible, and there’s only one means that I have to do it.
Writing Book Three of the Dahlia Ringo series.
Losing myself in a fantasy world is just what I need right now. Dahlia’s life of fashion, prosperity, and hardships (those with more than a few nickles to rub together have problems, too), is a world that I get to create and call the shots in. And it beckons me today like it never has before.
The sirens are singing, “Now’s the time, girlfriend. Come. Lose yourself over here with us.”
I wish we all could do it.
Books One and Two haven’t sold enough to warrant Book Three, but that’s hardly the point. This isn’t about selling books. It’s about running away. At least for awhile.
I can’t let myself ponder on what’s happened in this country. I feel on the edge, on the verge, of something. A nervous breakdown? A public rampage? A drunken descent?
I don’t know what I might do. And I don’t want to know.
