Writers are sensitive folks, generally. This is good. Empathy is important and all that. This is also bad. Lots of us kill ourselves or drink ourselves to death, etc. I was thinking about this today because I started feeling really bad about myself, and then I had an epiphany.
See, I write a lot of things and some get ignored and some blow up and some just kind of exist, taking up internet space. So, anyway, what got me all bummed out was looking at my stats on Amazon. (I have yet to figure out that Jim Devitt trick that would make me the #1 bestselling writer named JD Mader or something – I love you, Jim – this isn’t about you, you’re awesome – and I WILL figure it out).
So, I was looking at my stats and I started feeling crappy. I did the KDP select program with one book (more about that on Thursday). My reviews are good. I’ve done pretty well, but it felt shitty. And then I stopped and mentally bitch-slapped myself for a moment. In far less time than it took to endure middle school, I have self published two novels, gotten this IU gig, started some blogs which I now pretty much ignore, started BlergPop with two writer friends, wrote Bad Book with Hise and Brooks, started an advice column (I have only done one so far, but people are digging it), just published an article with the biggest online fishing resource, and started a Freelance writing business. So, thought I to myself, why are you tripping you gorgeous nimrod, you? Continue reading “Fear and self-loathing, sober on my couch”