Why writing is more than writing...I had a bad day yester...
Why writing is more than writing...
I had a bad day yesterday on the business-front. Actually, it was the culmination of several bad days over the past few weeks. Last night's disappointment was the final straw that put me over the edge, leaving me to wonder for the katrillionth time why I've willingly chosen this business. It wasn't a life-long ambition of mine to become an author; in fact, it's fairly recent. But I love creating stories, and I bought in to the theory that if you love what you do, the rest will come. Yeah, right!
It's not about the writing. For a change, my writing is going extremely well. I LOVE my current WIP, and I'm eager to start on the (currently) six other titles waiting in the wings. No, this is about the other stuff; the stuff indie authors have to deal with. Yes, yes; I know. I'm the one always saying that authors are authors and we shouldn't differentiate. I wholeheartedly believe that's true - when it comes to our books. But there is a difference on the business side, and that's where I'm struggling.
Now, this isn't a bitch session about the indie scene (though a few choice words crossed my lips last night). And as mentioned above, I chose to become indie. I could do what thousands of other authors have done and submit my works to publishing houses on the hopes they'll like my work enough to represent me. I understand that's an option. To be honest, I like the autonomy of being indie. I like choosing my own deadlines - which I rarely meet - and picking the title, and designing the covers. Plus, having representation from a publisher doesn't guarantee best-sellerdom. There are hundreds (if not more) of talented authors out there, backed by publishing houses, who've never seen a best-seller's list.
No, this is about the stuff I'm not good at, and I'm brave enough to say I'm not good at it. Making smart decisions. Oh, okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but it's how I feel in the moment. I look around at my peers (I'm not comparing myself to them. Honest!) and I take note of what they're accomplishing, and, more importantly, how they're accomplishing it, and I try the same tactic. And it fails. So that leaves me wondering, is it me? Am I the common denominator? Am I just not cut out for this? Or is it the aged-old adage - one I've quoted myself from time to time - that we all walk different paths and their journey isn't mine?
Trouble is, even when I change paths, they converge to the same one I've been traveling my entire life. The path of not knowing what the hell I'm doing. Of making the wrong choices. Of losing faith in my decisions. I thought growing older meant growing wiser. Maybe it means being wise enough to know when to quit.
Okay, this is turning into a pity party post, and that's not what I'm about. I'll find a way - somehow - though the specifics escape me at the moment. Nothing worthwhile is easy, right?
If there's one thing I don't doubt, it's the support of my fellow indies. We all face these why-in-the-hell-am-I-putting-myself-through-this moments and it's the faith and encouragement from those who have been there that gets us through. And, for that, I'm eternally grateful. No one gets this like other indies!!
So, where now? I wish I knew. As my husband tells me, "keep writing". And I will. I love it too much to quit. I guess I'll figure the rest out as I go along, and maybe, just maybe, one of these days the sky will open up in front of me and I'll see I'm where I was meant to be all along.
Or maybe not...
I had a bad day yesterday on the business-front. Actually, it was the culmination of several bad days over the past few weeks. Last night's disappointment was the final straw that put me over the edge, leaving me to wonder for the katrillionth time why I've willingly chosen this business. It wasn't a life-long ambition of mine to become an author; in fact, it's fairly recent. But I love creating stories, and I bought in to the theory that if you love what you do, the rest will come. Yeah, right!
It's not about the writing. For a change, my writing is going extremely well. I LOVE my current WIP, and I'm eager to start on the (currently) six other titles waiting in the wings. No, this is about the other stuff; the stuff indie authors have to deal with. Yes, yes; I know. I'm the one always saying that authors are authors and we shouldn't differentiate. I wholeheartedly believe that's true - when it comes to our books. But there is a difference on the business side, and that's where I'm struggling.
Now, this isn't a bitch session about the indie scene (though a few choice words crossed my lips last night). And as mentioned above, I chose to become indie. I could do what thousands of other authors have done and submit my works to publishing houses on the hopes they'll like my work enough to represent me. I understand that's an option. To be honest, I like the autonomy of being indie. I like choosing my own deadlines - which I rarely meet - and picking the title, and designing the covers. Plus, having representation from a publisher doesn't guarantee best-sellerdom. There are hundreds (if not more) of talented authors out there, backed by publishing houses, who've never seen a best-seller's list.
No, this is about the stuff I'm not good at, and I'm brave enough to say I'm not good at it. Making smart decisions. Oh, okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but it's how I feel in the moment. I look around at my peers (I'm not comparing myself to them. Honest!) and I take note of what they're accomplishing, and, more importantly, how they're accomplishing it, and I try the same tactic. And it fails. So that leaves me wondering, is it me? Am I the common denominator? Am I just not cut out for this? Or is it the aged-old adage - one I've quoted myself from time to time - that we all walk different paths and their journey isn't mine?
Trouble is, even when I change paths, they converge to the same one I've been traveling my entire life. The path of not knowing what the hell I'm doing. Of making the wrong choices. Of losing faith in my decisions. I thought growing older meant growing wiser. Maybe it means being wise enough to know when to quit.
Okay, this is turning into a pity party post, and that's not what I'm about. I'll find a way - somehow - though the specifics escape me at the moment. Nothing worthwhile is easy, right?
If there's one thing I don't doubt, it's the support of my fellow indies. We all face these why-in-the-hell-am-I-putting-myself-through-this moments and it's the faith and encouragement from those who have been there that gets us through. And, for that, I'm eternally grateful. No one gets this like other indies!!
So, where now? I wish I knew. As my husband tells me, "keep writing". And I will. I love it too much to quit. I guess I'll figure the rest out as I go along, and maybe, just maybe, one of these days the sky will open up in front of me and I'll see I'm where I was meant to be all along.
Or maybe not...
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