L.P. Dillon's Blog
July 6, 2023
Write to wellness
Hiya,
Today is a meh day. Life has been rough this year and I can't wait until next year. I'm hoping it will be better. I'm still struggling to get the motivation to write. I feel like I'm letting my readers down. They've waited so long for me to finish my Freya Rose series and I can't seem to get myself in the right frame of mind to write. It used to be my escape, my therapy. But since earning money from it, it has become a job instead of fun or relaxation.
I hope you are all coping with writing and life better than I am. Or maybe you have some advise for me. It seems as though there aren't enough hours in the day. I am struggling after losing 3 people this year already and 2 have cancer. It bloody sucks. On top of that I am going for generic resting next month to see if I have familial partial lypodisrophy and it could explain why I have loads of other illnesses.
I am hooingnlife calms down so I can focus on my writing and give the readers what they so rightly deserve.
Okay that's my rant for the day.
Today is a meh day. Life has been rough this year and I can't wait until next year. I'm hoping it will be better. I'm still struggling to get the motivation to write. I feel like I'm letting my readers down. They've waited so long for me to finish my Freya Rose series and I can't seem to get myself in the right frame of mind to write. It used to be my escape, my therapy. But since earning money from it, it has become a job instead of fun or relaxation.
I hope you are all coping with writing and life better than I am. Or maybe you have some advise for me. It seems as though there aren't enough hours in the day. I am struggling after losing 3 people this year already and 2 have cancer. It bloody sucks. On top of that I am going for generic resting next month to see if I have familial partial lypodisrophy and it could explain why I have loads of other illnesses.
I am hooingnlife calms down so I can focus on my writing and give the readers what they so rightly deserve.
Okay that's my rant for the day.
July 3, 2023
Write to wellness
Hi, thank you for being here, although I have know idea where here is, exactly, lol. I decided to start a blog and I don't know if I will remember to post on here regularly, as I have the brain of a gold fish, but I will try my best.
I am Leanne, also known as author L.P. Dillon. That still seems so alien to me. When anyone in RL mentions I'm an author, I recoil and shy away like a snail escaping into it's shell. I'm quiet a loud person in public, but many don't know that the over-confident exterior hides an incredibly insecure introvert. I have learned to hide the real me and the only people that know the real me, are my husband and my daughter.
I have had a terrible life and I am so lucky to have met my amazing husband and have our beautiful daughter after ten years of trying. I try so hard to see the best in life, but sadly I am a pessimist and always look out for the bad, which is usually hiding around the corner. I didn't start my writing career until I was 33 years old. It took me that long to grow the balls I needed to give it a bash. A lifetime of being told I wasn't going to achieve anything. I couldn't finish anything. I was thick, dumb, stupid, fat, ugly and a bad person. I believed it all and even when I banished the toxic from my life, their voice became my own and it had burrowed deep inside my brain, constantly reminding me, not to bother trying anything, because I would always fail.
My daughter and I almost died when I gave birth and that little angel saved me. One look at her sweet and innocent face gave me the strength I so desperately needed. After cutting my toxic mother out of my life, to save my daughter from experiencing any of the horrors I had growing up, I finally was free. Free to try. And try I did, and when I finished my first Freya Rose book, the confidence it brought me was overpowering. I was so nervous to out my book out there and I was right to be. I had no clue what I was doing. I didn't know about formatting or covers, advertising and promoting. Oh and them damn release parties on Facebook 😮💨 I was rejected by every publisher and agent I spoke to and I felt deflated.
My mother and the voice in my head was right, I wasn't any good.
Then I learned about self publishing and I dove in head first. It was amazing at first. I joined apps, release parties and anthologies. I felt like I had finally been accepted. However, when I began seeing authors succeed, hit bestsellers and New York time bestseller, some getting their books on tv and authors being able to give up their jobs and buy new houses, I couldn't cope. These authors were ones who'd began at the same time as me, or even afterwards. Imposter syndrome set in and inferiority too. That's when I learned that my dyslexia had affected my work. My punctuation was horrendous and after three years and losing my motivation, I felt worse than ever. I couldn't keep up.
These other authors were bringing out books every six to eight weeks. How do they find the time? They are promoting all over the place. How do they organise it all and find the time to be everywhere at once? They are traveling all over the world to book signings and hitting Amazon top 100 and bestseller, every time they bring a book out. How!!?
I am so proud of all of them, but I won't lie, I am jealous as hell. Not because I think I deserve their success. No. I'm jealous of the energy they have. The ability to organize themselves and get the best out of every hour in the day. I feel like a complete bellend. I can't even organize my own house. I have piles of clothes all over the place. Every inch of storage I have, is filled to the brim and spilling over with god knows what. I can't even remember to write down important appointments, let alone remember if I have a release party to attend or post on one of the millions of social media sites. They're lucky if they get updated once a month 🤦♀️ They have readers and street teams who post their stuff all over the place or make them graphics when they buy their books. I love my readers, but I'm lucky if I get a conversation, let alone any of them sharing my stuff. They also have amazing PA's who bend over backwards for them and do so much for them. Mine have all ended up having me do more promotion than they do. I have paid them to basically give me more jobs and less time. Also editors have been poop too. Been burned a few times.
It makes me think that it isn't about talent, it's about popularity mainly and unfortunately for me, I have a broken personality and have a habit of annoying people. I haven't been able to keep one proper friend, ever. Am I so un-lovable? I must be. I just seem like a complaining little biatch who has more than some and still isn't happy. Damn, my brain is super screwed. I wish I could be a happy go lucky person, I really do, but I feel like an emotional succubus. I'd like a friend, a true friend, one that will be there for you, no matter what. Someone who can love my neurotic behavior. I have Borderline personality disorder, also known by its new name, emotionally unstable personality disorder. Some buttheads messed me up as a kid, then a mother who was abusive in every possible way until I was 30. So it's taking me some time to heel. I wonder if I will ever be that glass half full kinda gal. Probably not.
On top of all of that I keep procrastinating. I have so much to sort out, I can't even be bothered to write, even though I really want to. I known shouldn't compare myself to anyone else, but it's so difficult when you see so many on Facebook or Instagram or tiktok, doing so bloody well.
Well that is my ramblings for the day. No idea when I'll write on here again, so maybe I'll see you around sometime.
I am Leanne, also known as author L.P. Dillon. That still seems so alien to me. When anyone in RL mentions I'm an author, I recoil and shy away like a snail escaping into it's shell. I'm quiet a loud person in public, but many don't know that the over-confident exterior hides an incredibly insecure introvert. I have learned to hide the real me and the only people that know the real me, are my husband and my daughter.
I have had a terrible life and I am so lucky to have met my amazing husband and have our beautiful daughter after ten years of trying. I try so hard to see the best in life, but sadly I am a pessimist and always look out for the bad, which is usually hiding around the corner. I didn't start my writing career until I was 33 years old. It took me that long to grow the balls I needed to give it a bash. A lifetime of being told I wasn't going to achieve anything. I couldn't finish anything. I was thick, dumb, stupid, fat, ugly and a bad person. I believed it all and even when I banished the toxic from my life, their voice became my own and it had burrowed deep inside my brain, constantly reminding me, not to bother trying anything, because I would always fail.
My daughter and I almost died when I gave birth and that little angel saved me. One look at her sweet and innocent face gave me the strength I so desperately needed. After cutting my toxic mother out of my life, to save my daughter from experiencing any of the horrors I had growing up, I finally was free. Free to try. And try I did, and when I finished my first Freya Rose book, the confidence it brought me was overpowering. I was so nervous to out my book out there and I was right to be. I had no clue what I was doing. I didn't know about formatting or covers, advertising and promoting. Oh and them damn release parties on Facebook 😮💨 I was rejected by every publisher and agent I spoke to and I felt deflated.
My mother and the voice in my head was right, I wasn't any good.
Then I learned about self publishing and I dove in head first. It was amazing at first. I joined apps, release parties and anthologies. I felt like I had finally been accepted. However, when I began seeing authors succeed, hit bestsellers and New York time bestseller, some getting their books on tv and authors being able to give up their jobs and buy new houses, I couldn't cope. These authors were ones who'd began at the same time as me, or even afterwards. Imposter syndrome set in and inferiority too. That's when I learned that my dyslexia had affected my work. My punctuation was horrendous and after three years and losing my motivation, I felt worse than ever. I couldn't keep up.
These other authors were bringing out books every six to eight weeks. How do they find the time? They are promoting all over the place. How do they organise it all and find the time to be everywhere at once? They are traveling all over the world to book signings and hitting Amazon top 100 and bestseller, every time they bring a book out. How!!?
I am so proud of all of them, but I won't lie, I am jealous as hell. Not because I think I deserve their success. No. I'm jealous of the energy they have. The ability to organize themselves and get the best out of every hour in the day. I feel like a complete bellend. I can't even organize my own house. I have piles of clothes all over the place. Every inch of storage I have, is filled to the brim and spilling over with god knows what. I can't even remember to write down important appointments, let alone remember if I have a release party to attend or post on one of the millions of social media sites. They're lucky if they get updated once a month 🤦♀️ They have readers and street teams who post their stuff all over the place or make them graphics when they buy their books. I love my readers, but I'm lucky if I get a conversation, let alone any of them sharing my stuff. They also have amazing PA's who bend over backwards for them and do so much for them. Mine have all ended up having me do more promotion than they do. I have paid them to basically give me more jobs and less time. Also editors have been poop too. Been burned a few times.
It makes me think that it isn't about talent, it's about popularity mainly and unfortunately for me, I have a broken personality and have a habit of annoying people. I haven't been able to keep one proper friend, ever. Am I so un-lovable? I must be. I just seem like a complaining little biatch who has more than some and still isn't happy. Damn, my brain is super screwed. I wish I could be a happy go lucky person, I really do, but I feel like an emotional succubus. I'd like a friend, a true friend, one that will be there for you, no matter what. Someone who can love my neurotic behavior. I have Borderline personality disorder, also known by its new name, emotionally unstable personality disorder. Some buttheads messed me up as a kid, then a mother who was abusive in every possible way until I was 30. So it's taking me some time to heel. I wonder if I will ever be that glass half full kinda gal. Probably not.
On top of all of that I keep procrastinating. I have so much to sort out, I can't even be bothered to write, even though I really want to. I known shouldn't compare myself to anyone else, but it's so difficult when you see so many on Facebook or Instagram or tiktok, doing so bloody well.
Well that is my ramblings for the day. No idea when I'll write on here again, so maybe I'll see you around sometime.
