Okay, so one of my other problems I’ve been going through for the past few months is figuring out how I’m going to juggle the different aspects of writing stuff. Writing a book or a story or anything for money is just one part of the process. Self-publishing requires figuring out everything there is to know about how a book is made, from cover art to pricing. Traditional publishing requires figuring out which agents and publishers to get rejection letters from.
Oh, and that’s just the beginning of self-inflicted misery.
Books don’t sell themselves. Self-published authors need to find creative ways of getting the words “here is my book” into common conversation. Traditional authors will have to do the same damn thing, except maybe the publisher might offer a little help and insight into the process. Regardless, writing a book is just the first step in flinging oneself off a giant cliff.
To borrow my metaphor from the title, a lot of things have to be going on at the same time to make a living at being a writer or author. Even without neurons predisposed to fear, I’m sure the process is mortifying. For my neurons, it’s like locking a coke addict in a drug sub.
At any rate, doing several things at once is something I used to be good at before 2013. Since then, it’s like I’m having to relearn something simple like walking or making a fart joke. The things I am currently trying to do (and failing at all of them, mind you) are: (1) finish writing novel; (2) get feedback on novel for editing; (3) try to stay motivated and not delete everything; (4) figure out who I’m going to send letters to since I want to traditionally publish; (5) do a blog about writing that will grow my social media footprint; (6) do other stuff to grow a social media presence; (7) try not to self-destruct; (8) figure out which publishers I might have to send letters to in case no agents respond to my letters; (9) wonder why people still use letters in today’s digital age; (10) come up with some sort of idea on how I intend to market a book considering I have no money to do so; and (11) literally everything else to maintain my illusion of sanity.
Additionally, I have failed to deliver on some projects for other people who might be reading this (including proofreading some wonderful books; I am very despondent about not being able to contribute to those projects right now). To those people, I am very, very, very sorry. I don’t volunteer for things lightly, and I’m a bad person for not following through.
And this is the easiest route for me to try to start generating an income.
Unfortunately, this post really should belong on my actual writing blog, but I’m still at odds on how I’m going to post regularly on it. I couldn’t do it a while back, and I haven’t tried since. It took time away from editing and the other things I was trying to do. To those people out there who can write and hang out on social media at the same time, I applaud your mad technical skills. You are my hero, each and every one of you.
I didn’t start writing this to depress myself even further. I wanted to write something about the crap I’m dealing with, in addition to an explanation as to why I’m not doing as much stuff online. A lot of this is just anxiety trying to yank my hands off the steering wheel. What I have to remember is that as the process goes along, it has its own inertia.
That’s why juggling is very appropriate here. Learning to send multiple objects in beautiful motion takes practice, but eventually there is a muscle memory and inertia to it. Once that happens, I’ll settle down a bit.
It would be nice to know the future so I can figure out when that will be.