Last night I found my metal stapler I've had since 1980. I misplaced my stapler in 2000.
This was the stapler I used when I was writing The Camp Crystal Lake novels. The stapler was used when I got it. I got it at the St Vincent De Paul shop.
The reason this stapler is significant is because last night I was casually googling my books like I do periodically to see if there are any new articles or reviews on my books.
Anyway, I ran into a nine year old review on my first Friday the 13th novel, Mother's Day. The person in the video was being a royal dick and nitpicking everything from the cover to even my choice of characters. Needless to say he gave the book a scathing review. He even went so far as to say that the people who have collected my books over the years are complete idiots because only idiots would spend HUNDREDS of dollars for books written by such a incompetent author.
Now, a very few of you are going to say that I'm ranting and trying to play the victim because of the insults this person threw at me.
Nope. I really could give a shit at this point in my life.
In August I reached my 59th birthday. I'm too busy contemplating my mortality. I could give a shit what some no talent, arrogant, petty, little bastard hidden in a black hoodie and sunglasses has to say about me or my work. It has no impact on me.
The point I'm getting at is I'm still writing and will continue to write until the day I pass from this mortal coil.
Money and sales really don't matter to me either. I know my books will find an audience, even if that is after I'm gone. I've made arrangements so that my work will be available for future generations in spite of the people who want my work to disappear.
Ok, so back to that precious stapler... Most people would say why not throw that old stapler out. Nope. Just because something is old doesn't mean it's useless and doesn't matter.
Like me my stapler still has work to do .