I've never felt sorry for people who decide to be alone. I do not find it an example of cowardice, not as much as I do not see it in those who would instead get together with anyone in order not to deal with loneliness. I have always been of the idea that being alone is beautiful, it is liberating. As I return home, in my beautiful solitude and silence after yet another chaotic day, I take off my shoes I untie my hair I sit on the sofa and stare at a point in the dark entrance in front of me. It is perhaps the truest moment that I live in contact with who I am. Me and my thoughts, and my reflections on what I did, on the contracts concluded, on the clients I met, on the mistakes I made. I should have been more rigid with the people I met this morning, I should have been more resolute in addressing that issue in the afternoon. I stay on the sofa with my legs on the table in the center, and the only sensation I have is of the skin in contact with the glass. Beautiful loneliness, as you think about how many are around right now having conversations with someone they don't even listen to the words of. After all, I'm almost happy. My tired legs and I, thank you for having decided to return, without further stops for aperitifs, inaugurations or dinners. Without effort, naturally back to live in the moment, of this moment.


We ebook writers are not considered. Not only are ebooks still a small slice of the publishing market but they are also marginalized when it comes to large publishing. We are not valued, we are not interviewed, we are not really considered, despite our valid presence in the field of female fiction. It is absurd that in 2020 ebooks are still outside the publishing environment and competitions. When I read about some expensive creative writing courses I feel like screaming. I was for a short internship at Holden where I discovered “The Book Industry” and I refused to be part of it. I could have had contracts with big publishers but I said no. I could also have had the “push” from Camilleri, my fellow countryman, but I also refused this. And all this to help small publishers who have never even thanked me. I fight against the windmills every day because I’m not on facebook, I’m not on twitter, I’m not on intagram and tik tok … practically I don’t exist except on wordpress where I manage blogs. I’ve never written for money. I have not agreed to advertise on my blogs and I have never asked anyone to review me and I have never advertised myself. I’m naive in a world of hungry wolves trying to excel. And I see every day that people no longer reads many books, no longer leaves the house, does not want real relationships but only virtual ones and I … I am the opposite of this and I am isolated for my different ideas.

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