That’s it. I needed to say it out loud. Though I do get a thrill when someone buys my book (c’mon, I’m still a human writer), I didn’t really publish it for the money. Any money I have made on it goes back into the book to cover the costs of artwork. That’s pretty much it. I’m not about to make a living selling books. I’ve always known that. Still, I often beat myself up because I don’t write fast enough. Instead of encouraging me to write, it only makes me want to give up. Except that it’s impossible to stop writing. So it’s a circle that will continue, leaving me feeling like crap.
This is a new level of doubt, brought on by our modern age. There are so many books and stories out there right now that I think we all fear getting lost. If you don’t put out so many books a year, then you’re supposedly screwed.
Maybe I am. So maybe I’m fooling myself here, but I think that if people read your story and really enjoy it, they will always find a way to stay in touch. This is also the way I approach my friends. Instead of being surrounded by a lot of people I have to constantly keep in contact with, I surround myself with a few choice friends that I can call up any time, no matter how much time has passed, and have it be as if we never left off. (This might be part of why I don’t get very far on Twitter.)
My last book was published in 2011. I’d intended to have another book by summer. Ha! I look back on my hopeful self and sort of laugh. (It might still be too soon. Maybe I can fully laugh next year. Hopefully I have another book out by then.)
So here’s what it comes down to: Do I want to race a story out because I’m afraid of being forgotten? Or do I want to write a story that will strike a cord and ensure that I’m remembered? Even if only for that one story. How long will it take for that second option? I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you when I finish something good.