I can see that the 8 1/2 x 11 staple-bound format of the last book "not unlike" is not right and has been bothering me, preoccupying me, a misalignment wearing away at a tender spot. The dilemma is technical - 24 pages, where the printer requires 32 pages for perfect bound. So I will knock out 8 b/w drawings to intersperse among the text and issue a revision. I can see that fit.
I also have all recent writing and all older unpublished writing printed out. I hope to be able to assemble this into the beginning of a book at least, something I can write toward to complete and publish soon.
I hope to do all this and start on something fresh.
I am amazed at the depths of my dumbfoundedness at this technical glitch with "not unlike." I have been inwardly upset, insecure, unsure of myself, my writing - it has been eating away at me - as if I had committed some terrible crime. It's a self-published book, for goodness' sake. Well, it just shows you that where the margins are thin the room for error is virtually non-existent. If I say I have relatively complete control over this product (I have said that, and I do) - insofar as one has control over what one does - then I pay the price for incomplete or incorrect optings.
I will forgive myself these 40-off days of self-imposed misery. I will shrug off the sense that I am serving as the foil for some sort of cosmic joke on myself.
I will myself a happy Easter.