It’s a no-brainer for me. I’d rather write than work on my marketing. I’ve got loads to do and loads planned but the thought of it makes me feel awfully glum.
So instead of finishing that paperback I was formatting, instead of sprucing up my website, instead of finding a good book cover, I’ve started a new short story instead. Quite happily poured out 1000 words in an hour. Now THAT’s the sort of thing that cheers me up!
I only just finished a novel last week. It’s the second Everlast novel and has turned out better than expected. I’m still looking for an agent for the first (that’s something else I have to do…..) and should be feeling despondent about it. After all, I’ve been looking for a year and a half now. I’ve forgotten now many agents I’ve already approached. Twenty, possibly!
My reluctance to do any “marketing” type stuff comes about because I’ve been so bad at it so far. I haven’t been able to get anyone to notice my books, let alone read them. I’m either doing it all wrong or just not doing it at all. I used to berate myself for this. I don’t anymore. I’m a writer. It’s what I do best. It’s what I like doing best. Does it matter that much if I fail at other stuff? It just makes me write more, and that can’t be a bad thing. It probably looks like a selfish endeavour: who am I writing for if no one reads my books? That would have to be me, then.
The short story is the next in the Exodus Sequence. Story 2 in Volume 2. It’s Volume 1’s cover I should be improving (the expense makes me baulk). It’s the paperback version of Story 1 of Volume 2 that I should be working on (but Kindle Create is a bust and doesn’t work half as well as CreateSpace, which I loved). And my website could do with a huge facelift but it’s such a big job that I’m not sure where to start. Is it any wonder that I’m overwhelmed by it all? And summer is approaching, with heat and responsibilities and less time and less inclination to bother with anything.
It doesn’t surprise me at all that I’d rather turn my back on everything and write about people who don’t exist, in a world that doesn’t exist, talking about things that don’t exist. Writing them makes it exist. What could be more satisfying than that?
Diary of a Bloomsbury Writer also appears in my WordPress blog which you can follow HERE.
So instead of finishing that paperback I was formatting, instead of sprucing up my website, instead of finding a good book cover, I’ve started a new short story instead. Quite happily poured out 1000 words in an hour. Now THAT’s the sort of thing that cheers me up!
I only just finished a novel last week. It’s the second Everlast novel and has turned out better than expected. I’m still looking for an agent for the first (that’s something else I have to do…..) and should be feeling despondent about it. After all, I’ve been looking for a year and a half now. I’ve forgotten now many agents I’ve already approached. Twenty, possibly!
My reluctance to do any “marketing” type stuff comes about because I’ve been so bad at it so far. I haven’t been able to get anyone to notice my books, let alone read them. I’m either doing it all wrong or just not doing it at all. I used to berate myself for this. I don’t anymore. I’m a writer. It’s what I do best. It’s what I like doing best. Does it matter that much if I fail at other stuff? It just makes me write more, and that can’t be a bad thing. It probably looks like a selfish endeavour: who am I writing for if no one reads my books? That would have to be me, then.
The short story is the next in the Exodus Sequence. Story 2 in Volume 2. It’s Volume 1’s cover I should be improving (the expense makes me baulk). It’s the paperback version of Story 1 of Volume 2 that I should be working on (but Kindle Create is a bust and doesn’t work half as well as CreateSpace, which I loved). And my website could do with a huge facelift but it’s such a big job that I’m not sure where to start. Is it any wonder that I’m overwhelmed by it all? And summer is approaching, with heat and responsibilities and less time and less inclination to bother with anything.
It doesn’t surprise me at all that I’d rather turn my back on everything and write about people who don’t exist, in a world that doesn’t exist, talking about things that don’t exist. Writing them makes it exist. What could be more satisfying than that?
Diary of a Bloomsbury Writer also appears in my WordPress blog which you can follow HERE.
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