September 7, 2020
Even if you knew you would never sell another book, would you keep writing?
I’ve asked myself that question more than a few times. I’ll look at a particularly bad month of sales and ask myself why I’m putting myself through the agony. Then I offset my bad mood by reading a good review and get my emotions back in balance.
When I first started writing poetry, back in the Dark Ages, I knew nothing about publishing. I wrote for the joy of stringing words together into a thing of beauty. That joy was only slightly dampened by the work that went into reaching out to magazine editors to try to get published.
I had to relearn publishing when I started writing fiction. I’m still learning. And I’m not very good at it. Perhaps that’s why the sales of my books are so close to non-existent.
But someone has described writing as a hunger. I’m hungry to get these stories out of my head, into book form, and share them. I can’t force anyone to buy them. But if I don’t put them out there, no one can take a look and decide to give one of them a chance.
The “experts” say that if one book flops write another one. And another one. Write a series. I’m up to eight books now and two series and I still haven’t “found” my audience. Or they haven’t found me.
I haven’t given up. I’m almost done writing the first draft of my ninth book now. With lesser expectations than the last eight. It’ll need a lot of cleaning up, but the story line is good, and it’s a great way to wrap up the series. Will it sell? I don’t know. Will I publish it? Yes.
I already have another series in my head. No, I lie. I have four possible series in my head. Make that five, now that I think about it.
So, would I stop writing if I knew I’d never sell another book? Not likely. I’m more worried about running out of time than I am running out of ideas. Even if no one ever buys another of my books, I get a great sense of personal satisfaction out of writing them. And joy.
Image by inno kurnia from Pixabay
I’m curious as to what the other authors on this hop feel about this. You can find out by following the links below.
Until next time, stay safe.
September 7, 2020
Even if you knew you would never sell another book, would you keep writing?
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from her, and grinned. He was all alpha male. The short buzz cut made it hard to tell, but she thought his hair was brown to match his eyes. His broad shoulders strained the seams of the tailored light blue cotton shirt he wore, and his chest appeared to be all muscle, no fat. He had a strong face, and stubble on his chin. She avoided the urge to scan the rest of his body. Dot caught a glimpse of a second man, almost as good-looking, seated in the passenger’s side of the jeep. Another day, another time she might flirt with the guys, but not today, not now.
I giggled as Lando adjusted the support stockings. They hid the thick bandages he had wrapped each leg with to make them appear fatter. “Luckily it’s getting chilly outside,” he said, handing me a heavy sweater. “The more layers of clothing you wear the less you resemble yourself.”
Well, not entirely. I cut it way back. The original is too long to include here, as it was an entire chapter and more. The final version only included Harmony, Eli, three bad guys, and the one person of questionable intent. Harmony still got to throw her stiletto heel at a bad guy. It promptly got lost in a drainage ditch. (If anyone is interested, the revised scene is part of The Baron’s Cufflinks.)
direction than I planned to go. When I wrote Wolves’ Knight, I had a love interest all planned out for Tasha. Big, burly, good looking, the perfect match. I even wrote the beginnings of a love scene. That’s when Tasha rebelled.