All I have ever wanted to do is see the world.
To live life, always going one hundred miles per hour. Never stopping to get caught up in all the bullshit that accumulates within our lives.
The other day someone said to me, “I think that’s everyone’s goal. To travel the world. To forget their responsibilities. To live the fairy tale that was shoved down their throat as a kid.”
I don’t disagree. I look at people who travel all over the world. Some are happy and carefree, they have this air to a lack of responsibility. You think Gosh I wish I was them.
Whereas if you know a few travelers some are so enamored by their “occupation” that they compel this almost sort of arrogance. But some, they are repulsed. They don’t see going to other places an exhilarating experience. It’s like traveling is a festering sore to them. Each time they go, that sore is expected to pop.
Every person is different. Some are the born traveler and some are not. Everyone has a different view and that’s okay.
I have wanted to be a traveler because like in my writing, exploring a new place is like magic. You never forget the first time you go to a new place. It’s not the same a second time.
I think that is what being a traveler is, feeling the thrill in exploration, like the thrill of imagination.
My mind is spontaneous, and I have always wanted traveling to be that way. Maybe it’s time I get out of the house. Run to the mountains or something.
I have so many thoughts going through my head right now.
First of all my dog is standing on the kitchen table. She’s not doing anything. She’s just. Standing there.
As much as would love to tell all 90 pounds of her to get off the table, that would be a battle that I just don’t want to fight right now.
Needless to say, I can’t sleep. Well I can sleep, it’s just I’m not actually sleeping. My mind is so full of thoughts I can’t shut down. On top of that I have 40 alarms set to make sure I don’t over sleep.
I’m currently experiencing overload.
Between college, being neck deep in author promotions, working, and trying to survive the Holidays. It’s rational to say that I’m overwhelmed.
I don’t even like the Holidays. Well I can’t say that I don’t it’s just the enjoyment has been sucked out of me due to Modern day society.
I love Christmas. I really do. It’s not that I don’t have time for, it’s just I can’t deal with it this year. So I’m taking a Holiday break this year. I’m going to hide at home while everyone is out shoving Christmas down each other’s throats. I will be very happy sitting on my computer writing, and drinking coffee until the Holidays are over.
Because I have excepted the fact that I am human, and I need to unwind every once in a while. If I’m doing what I love, does it really matter?
Hey everyone I’m the Grinch. I think people lose site of the fact that the Holidays are not a happy time for some people. There are people out there who just want to spend the time to rest, for some it’s a traumatic time. Too often people don’t realize that not everyone wants to be yipper skipper during the holidays. And no, I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT HOLIDAY SHOPPING.
Okay, I’m stopping this to say, since when did Modern Society make getting in a fight at Walmart Thanksgiving night a Holiday tradition?
Oh what has happened people? People has happened.
It’s always a bit scary to get feedback on your work. You tell yourself you are prepared for some criticism and then it comes. You can’t handle it.
I hear of this happening to a lot of writers. That one bad review is the be all to end all.
I remember the first time I got a bad review. I remember clicking on the link and thinking don’t do this. Don’t read it. You should really listen to your own conscience. I learned my lesson.
The review wasn’t about the story or the plot it was about the way the book was formatted. That bad review I turned into a learning experience.
I chose not to take offense. Yes it was a sour blow, but not the end of the world. The guy had suggestions, he is the reader I am the writer. My job is to find out what the reader wants and learn from those wants.
The next time you get a bad review, embrace it. It could teach you something.
(If the reviewer is blatantly being an ass then disregard my advice.)
Bad reviews, they’re like alcohol.
Read a review, you take a swig.
The words, like bitter buzz in the mouth.
Down the throat they burn.
The words are fire, you don’t like them but you can’t stop them.
The alcohol won’t kill you, but the words will.
Cruelty influences the booze.
Read one, you’ve read em’ all.
Take a sip, look down and the bottle you’ve already drained.
Read enough, drink enough.
Crash through life poisoned by that one sip. By that one bad review.
I spent two years of my life trying to make the decision. It’s easy to say I wasted all that precious writing time trying to convince myself why one was better than the other.
Did it gain me anything? Absolutely.
I have forged this relationship with myself. Try, if it doesn’t work, try again. Eventually if you try and fail enough things will eventually work themselves out. Could take a month, or several years. A lifetime in most cases. But there’s a beauty to this try and fail experience. If it gets done in a lifetime, I’ve done my job as a writer.
I’ve surpassed the selling one book mark by a great deal. All it takes is selling one book and you’ve gotten your name out there.
What does that have to do with traditional vs indie publishing? The truth is it has everything to do with it.
When you ask yourself the question and ponder an answer. You find out your goals as a writer. Do I want to go big or go home? Or do I want to find my own way in this world by the fight of my own ambition?
When I think about it, I look back and I don’t regret a thing. I am human, and I make mistakes. It’s part of living in our era, with the internet and all. It’s hard not to regret.
Two years ago I was pushing to get through The Devil’s Retreat and spitting out disastrous query letters. I had every intention of querying agents because I spent nights awake convincing myself, self-publishing is a bloody disaster. I wasn’t wrong either way. Traditional publishing can be as big of a disaster as Indie Publishing can. It’s all part of learning.
After finishing my novel and sitting on it for about six months I decided a year ago to go Indie. Back in August I published The Devil’s Retreat as an Indie author. I’m happy with my experience.
BUT, I’ve reverted to my original thinking and that’s okay. No path is ever clear. Especially the hazy paths publishing takes.
Have a little fight in yourself. Do what is right for you and stop listening to everyone else. You’ll be glad you did.