So here I am, it's 2011. I wrote a book and self-published. That was 2009, two years ago come April/May. I suppose it should feel like more of an accomplishment, but the truth is, it really wasn't.
I know, I know. I have a book out there available for purchase. Yay for me, believe me, I love that. But here's the thing: if I didn't have a day job, I could whore myself out and whore my book out a lot. But could I really?
I'm 31 years old and I still feel as insecure as I did when I was 15. Actually, at 15 I was a little MORE confident, as I was a stubborn ass teenager hell-bent on doing whatever the hell I wanted. I hate that I feel this way. I've been in management for, what... holy hell, ten years come August. In that time, I've had to put up with a LOT of crap from people: customers, employees, bosses, all the world. When I was young and stubborn, I had a better backbone--which is really ironic, considering I had no backbone in regards to my abusive ex-boyfriend.
Here's my issue: I love that I have a book out. It's an accomplishment. But the fact that it takes SO much effort to try and get it out there... No. It's not even the effort. It's the MONEY it takes, because of the route I took. I have to purchase copies of my own book to try to take around and convince people to buy. Now, for all my book signings last year, it's true that Borders ordered them all. The company I deal with, while they have effectively given me a break and put me there, it's still all me. And ONLY ME.
As they are so kind to remind me, unless you start selling more copies of the book, they will basically drop the book. Hmm. Incentive, or threat?
Well, and here's another dirty little secret: apparently I had to request my royalties, as I haven't seen a dime. Now, I know they are there, as I have used them to purchase copies of my book. And that's the only way I've been able to do it, to buy my own freaking book.
I am rambling and disorganized, and it's frustrating. I can't help thinking that book-writing is becoming a novelty game. Not for me. But I swear, every time I turn around now, I hear that such-and-such is writing a book. Some are doing it because they are finally going to do it. Some are bored and decided to have a go.
So why do I write? And what am I supposed to be doing, anyway? If I focused all my energy on promoting "What Might Have Been" then I wager I could get more out there. My main goal is to get a real agent this year and hopefully, hopefully get a real publishing contract. You know what I mean: the kind where you don't have to shell out your own money to make your dreams come true.
Maybe I'm just feeling bitter and cynical right now. Duh.
And because of that, I have to take a moment to say thank you: thank you to all of you who have bought my book, read my book, and had such lovely things to say about it. I can't tell you how much it means to me.
I suppose the basis for my rambling is because I want to NOT be working a day job because if I don't then we starve to death. I want to work a day job as a supplement to writing. But I can't accomplish that until I finish the next fucking book.
Okay. I've got that mostly out of my system. Now, I need to get a grip, buckle down, and sort out my priorities and make some deadlines. So even though I feel like this:
I need to focus so I can be more like this:
And then the world will be good.
I have vented. I am good now. :)