As longtime blog readers know, I go through phases with my writing. There are days I love what I do and am amazed at all the dreams that I’ve seen come true. I’m humbled by my readers’ appreciation and comments.
There are other times when I really, really hate writing and think I should just give it all up. Walk away and never look back.
There are those who say the latter is impossible. Writers write, after all, and that doesn’t change. But history is rife with people who gave it up and continued to live very happy lives.
Look, I’m not in this to make tons of money. It would be nice but it’s not really my driving motivation.
But making money would definitely make me feel like this was a worthwhile expenditure of my time.
When you factor in the costs of going to cons, book signings, etc. I think it’s safe to say that I’ve lost money doing this whole writing gig. Sales, quite frankly, suck. I can take solace in the fact that pretty much everybody else’s sales are equally sucky but that’s not a rousing endorsement, is it?
There are folks in the New Pulp field who crow about their sales… now, “great sales” is a relative concept but the truth is that, by any truly reasonable level of reality, most of those New Pulp folks who claim they have tremendous sales are absolute liars. They’re blowing smoke to A. Give some validity to themselves and B. Hoping that this will become some sort of self-fulfilling idea. “Hmm, looks like other people are buying this guy’s stuff. Maybe I should try it….”
Setting aside the monetary losses, I also find the act of creation to be a real pain in the ass sometimes. It’s not that I suffer from a lack of ideas. Far from it. I have a compulsion to write that is often vexing… and I’M NEVER DONE. I finish one thing and then I have to start another. I’ll keep doing this until I die and not all of my ideas will ever see print and even if they do, fewer still will actually care. The knowledge that I’ll be leaving things unfinished in the end really bothers me. It makes me want to “end” my storylines and then step back, knowing that’s the only way I’ll truly be able to cap things off and not leave things hanging.
Ah, well. I’ll quit my bitching for now. I’m supposed to be writing a story, anyway.
See what I mean? It never ends, no matter how many times I type: