I've said fairwell to Trestle Press

It's done.

It's over.  I've said my goodbyes.

I've said all along that when solid, incontrovertible proof was given to me that Trestle Press and I needed to part, I would do just exactly that.  I also said that when, and if, we parted company I would let those who follow this blog, and my fellow writers, know up front and immediately that I've left Trestle Press.

And admit that I was wrong and they were right.

That proof came to me today.

Doesn't matter what the proof was.  It was enough to convince me that a change had to be made.  So I've asked Trestle Press to take down everything of mine they've published.  I've scrubbed all references of Trestle Press from this blog site.  I'll soon post this blog on Facebook and Google-Plus and other sites to admit my mistake.

And it tears me up.  Tears me up not because I admit I'm wrong.  Hell, ask my wife;  I'm told on a daily basis I'm wrong.  I don't mind the lumps and the finger-pointing that comes when I've screwed up.  I did the screwing up . . . I'll take the blame.  I'm thick headed enough to take the blame and live with it and survive.

That's Life, buddy.  You may not have had the option of declining to sign up for this gig, but as long as you're alive, you have to take the lumps and the failures along with the successes and joys Life hands out to all of us.

What tears me up is the end of a dream.  A dream not about money and success and fame. (I'm human . . . more or less.  Sure, I'd like to have some of that stuff thrown my way.  But I can live without it if I have to) 

No . . . . .

What tears me up is that I'm involved in seeing a dream someone else so diligently tried to build start to possibly crumble into ruin.  I know about dreams.  About the emotions that goes with the dreams.  About the bitter frustrations.  The sense of loss when that dream almost . . . almost . . . becomes a reality and then is suddenly taken away from you.  The creator of Trestle Press, for all that's been said about him, nevertheless was a man who had a real dream driving him on.  He wanted to create publishing venue that gave an opportunity for dozens of unknown writers to get their material out and into the reading public.

A noble dream, if you ask me.  And one I still appreciate deeply for being offered to me. That bad decisions, defined as intentional or unintentional (your choice)  were made which almost assured the eventual firestorm that erupted, doesn't destroy the dream.

Like I said to a friend of mine earlier, I take my loyalties and my friendships seriously.  I am also (this will come as a shocking surprise, eh?!) stubborn headed, cantankerous, quarrelsome, with a strong potion of 'I-Hate-To-Lose!  There are times I'm hard to live with.  And it's a given that I'm probably not going to go along with majority view of anything.  And I absolutely hate . . . HATE . . . being put in a position of turning my back on a friend and walking away.

I've seen too many good people either destroyed or never given the opportunity to rise up and succeed in life.  I've seen too many people accused of crimes committed out of mistaken assumptions and/or without cause whatsoever and watched their reputations, and in some cases their lives, destroyed in the process. 

And I live every day with the guilt of being one of those who did not lift a hand to try and save them.  Of all the wrongs that I have done . . . this is the one bitter pill hardest to swallow.  And remember.

In good conscience I had to separate my relationship with Trestle Press.  Had to.  I'm not happy about it.  I'm not happy with myself.  I worry that a great wrong has been committed.  Committed unnecessarily.

I guess we'll have to wait and see . . .