Monday morning.
Ten thirty-five.
I’ve been sitting here looking at this screen for at least twenty minutes wondering what the hell is going to come out of my head. So instead of wondering, I decided to be completely honest and transparent this morning.
The words pain me to say, but I feel like giving up.
Giving up the blog. Giving up writing novels. Just stopping, taking an extended break, or quitting the game.
Just giving up on the whole writing endeavor thing altogether.
It’s hard, you guys. It isn’t easy. You wonder what you’re doing it for, quite frankly. The time you have to put into it as an independent author is cumbersome, all-consuming, and the rewards of it are few at times. You bust your ass just to get one book sale, and then you feel exhausted by it. And the worst part is, you have to go back to the drawing board and start writing again. And marketing. And promoting. And killing yourself on social media. It requires creativity and lots of dedication. Some people are supportive, others want to see you fail.
I could sit and write stories all day. I love that aspect, but the other side of it is pretty hard when you’re a one-man-band.
I’ve hit an all-time low this morning. I had a great day in Oxford yesterday, signed lots of books, and met a lot of people. It has nothing to do with that. It has to do with looking toward the future, and wondering if I have what it takes to continue on this path.
I can’t explain it any more than I just have. I’m feeling down…and tired.
It’s a defeatist attitude for sure. I know that. I hate the way I sound right now. But if I have to weigh my time and energy and measure it against the rewards of it all, I’m not sure the scale tips in the direction of writing novels. Or blog posts.
I’m just not sure.
The thing that’s most troubling is I’m not ordinarily a quitter. Never have been.
But today is different.
It just feels different today.