All I Really Wanted…

…was to sell a few books, and maybe an album or two. maybe a few tee shirts. Just enough to offset the expense of creating the things, at least. It didn’t seem like that big a deal back when I started this romp.

The problem is, indie publishing is, by and large, an overexposed idea. Too many people, good and bad, are on this train now, and I certainly did NOT get in on the ground floor. I’m not grousing, believe it or not. Everyone deserves a shot. The problem is, the way things are now, no one is getting a shot. There are #indiepub gurus who insist that there are provable methods for doing this stuff, and I believe they’re legitimate.

What I don’t believe is that I can do it exactly the same way. I can’t spend twenty hours a day one Twitter and Facebook subtly pimping my work in between posts about every random interesting thing I stumble across. I can barely find time to crank out a couple thousand words or write a new song or design some new logo with the limited time I have left these days. I’m trying to fix that, but I’m well aware that my plans for world domination have not been optimized for what’s left of the Zeitgeist. Too many plans that have had to be shelved due to lack of time, funds or interest. Just trying to clear out the backlog is taking too long.

So, what do I want now? Hugs, mostly. Oh, and maybe just a hint of that infallible self-possession I used to have, back when I was so certain I was going to make this creativity lark pay off some day. I don’t think I was completely wrong. I just think I must have got off at the wrong station or something.

Going to work some on The Uninvited Guest this morning, I think. I started posting some of it over at Wattpad, but I’m not sure if that experiment will amount to much, either.

Time to put on some underpants and go do some work. Thanks for tolerating me.


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