I’m pretty depressed. The life of a writer is not an easy one. It’s never going to be easy, but I find it can be rewarding and I don’t think I will ever stop doing it.
My depression is driven by things I can’t change. I will never be able to change what people think and what they want to do. I want to though. I wish I could bend them all to my will, but sadly they have to live their lives. And my book might not be a part of their lives. I have to be OK with that fact.
I haven’t heard back from anyone about the last story I wrote and in my heart, I felt it was the best thing I have ever written. I mean I really felt this was a great story. Maybe I was wrong and that’s OK because I wanted to write the story. I wanted to make it come alive and I accomplished that much by putting it together. Maybe it’s only meant for me to have and share with friends, but at least I wrote it and something can be said for accomplishing that much. Some people don’t even get the chance to have that solace.
The other thing is I’m having a terrible time negotiating the pantheon that is marketing. My second novella, Revealed, is not selling well and I feel that I have failed the story. I have failed to let everyone know how wonderful and beautiful it really is. I guess I should work harder on selling myself, but it’s so difficult to put yourself out there only for rejection. It’s just something I’m going to have to get better at doing.
Well this has been a downer. I guess I feel as though here I can give my doubts voice and if I say them “out loud” they might just go away. Although we all know that writing and doubt seem to go hand and hand.
Until next time, read on.