It’s Turning Into Another Day of Bickering and Complaints
crossposted from Lee Edward McIlmoyle's blog
Okay, I’m feeling pretty wide open this morning, so I’m just gonna say it, even though it pisses off my agent/manager/partner/wife, but I think my writing ‘career’ is failing. I’ve been reaching for the brass ring, writing some of the most potent, personal, powerful stuff I know how, and frankly, I think I’m still at the starting blocks… and I’m in my mid-forties. No, I’m not dead yet. There’s still time. I haven’t done anything monumentally stupid yet. Quitting is probably the only thing I can do wrong, at this point. But I’ll tell you this for nothing: it takes a lot of something I don’t seem to have to keep from crying every now and then about how hard this is getting.
I tell you this to explain simply why I published UNPLANNED DETOUR TO LIMBO. I did it, to be utterly blunt, to see if this fucking thing is on or not (testing… 1… 2… 3…). And you know, it’s gotten a tiny bit of attention, so far. Hundreds of views on Twitter and Facebook. Dozens of views on Smashwords. Two partial downloads. No sales. None. Do I want or expect sales? I honestly don’t know. I’m not counting on it, if that’s what you mean. I just want to re-engage whatever I’m laughingly calling my readership these days. It’s like a postcard (remember those) with a photo of an exotic critter from Bora Bora or New Zealand. It’s a reminder that I’m here. If you don’t like what you see, you can still stop by for a coffee and a chat, at any rate.
So the question is, what do I do? I mean, besides keep writing, because I know that one already. I’ve got plans to write and publish more as soon as I can get the log jam out of my way. I’ve also got other projects vying for my attention. It’s making it difficult to return to the novels. I want to write the novels, don’t get me wrong. But I’m beginning to suspect that my novels don’t want me writing them. I’m the wrong guy, again.
I’d tell you other things, but I should probably get to work and try staring at the blank screens again for a while.
Thanks for reading.
Lee.
Okay, I’m feeling pretty wide open this morning, so I’m just gonna say it, even though it pisses off my agent/manager/partner/wife, but I think my writing ‘career’ is failing. I’ve been reaching for the brass ring, writing some of the most potent, personal, powerful stuff I know how, and frankly, I think I’m still at the starting blocks… and I’m in my mid-forties. No, I’m not dead yet. There’s still time. I haven’t done anything monumentally stupid yet. Quitting is probably the only thing I can do wrong, at this point. But I’ll tell you this for nothing: it takes a lot of something I don’t seem to have to keep from crying every now and then about how hard this is getting.
I tell you this to explain simply why I published UNPLANNED DETOUR TO LIMBO. I did it, to be utterly blunt, to see if this fucking thing is on or not (testing… 1… 2… 3…). And you know, it’s gotten a tiny bit of attention, so far. Hundreds of views on Twitter and Facebook. Dozens of views on Smashwords. Two partial downloads. No sales. None. Do I want or expect sales? I honestly don’t know. I’m not counting on it, if that’s what you mean. I just want to re-engage whatever I’m laughingly calling my readership these days. It’s like a postcard (remember those) with a photo of an exotic critter from Bora Bora or New Zealand. It’s a reminder that I’m here. If you don’t like what you see, you can still stop by for a coffee and a chat, at any rate.
So the question is, what do I do? I mean, besides keep writing, because I know that one already. I’ve got plans to write and publish more as soon as I can get the log jam out of my way. I’ve also got other projects vying for my attention. It’s making it difficult to return to the novels. I want to write the novels, don’t get me wrong. But I’m beginning to suspect that my novels don’t want me writing them. I’m the wrong guy, again.
I’d tell you other things, but I should probably get to work and try staring at the blank screens again for a while.
Thanks for reading.
Lee.