When my niece and nephews were younger and there would be family parties, my DH and I always brought a piñata. We lived in Southern California and there were places all over the area where we could buy them. Or sometimes we made them.

For those who don’t know what a piñata is, imagine a circle of kids surrounding one kid holding a piñata bat (looks like a regular wooden bat, carved and painted to be pretty). Blindfold this kid and then spin them until they didn’t know where they are, good and dizzy. Then point them at a suspended papier-mâché form, crammed full of candy, and let them whack away.

You know, describing it makes it sound really dangerous. It’s the most fun if you keep hauling the piñata out of their reach. (Sadistic, yeah. Hee, hee.) They take turns until someone finally destroys it and candy scatters and the kids dive in.

Used to love that game.

What does that have to do with writing? Well, I’m not sure, but it does seem to sum up the new world of publishing. I feel like a blindfolded kid. Or the piñata. Maybe one of the other kids, waiting for the candy to drop.

All I know is there is there is a bat out there being handled by someone with a blindfold on. I want to think it’s me.

My dearest Terri, sent me two emails on Wednesday. Two different self-published authors with words of advice. Sorta reminded me of that poem, two roads converged in a woods and I took the one less traveled … In an echo chamber, sung in a round. In a house of mirrors.

Everyone wants a short cut. I do. But I also know there simply isn’t one out there. It’s a crapshoot, it’s about the luck of finding that golden ticket. I’m a lucky person. Not always the most patient in the world, but I’m learning.

I loved those emails. I saved them and printed them up and put them in my white binder of manuscript prep. Someday I’ll write one. Right now, I don’t know what works. I’m not even sure what doesn’t work.

I do love an adventure! I may whine and cry sometimes about being disappointed, but then I get an awesome review and I just shake my head. Time will tell and all I can control is today. And when you’re blindfolded, holding a bat, all you can do is listen and swing with care…

Can you think of anything else that is so full of contrary techniques?  What has made you dizzy with what the heck you’re supposed to do, with anything? What do think? You feel like the bat? The piñata? The candy? Surrounding kids? Or do you hold the bat?