Publishing my book. I always think, “some day, I’m going to take the time to edit it and make it good enough to publish, and people will love it.” Then I go back to it and remember that it’s terrible and massively overwrought. I can’t even finish it much less make it good. And it’s like a dam in the creative part of my brain. I can’t think of another thing that isn’t just a lesser version of the project I thought was good but isn’t.
This isn’t me trolling for encouragement. I’m not a writer, and I know I don’t have the focus or stamina to write professionally. This was a dalliance, and I’m happy with my life and my accomplishments. It’s just that every once in a while, I think about publishing a book.
I’ve published two novels. One sold well enough to complicate my tax prep for a few years, and the other bombed. They’re both out of print so I won’t waste your time with titles. In neither case was it the life-changing experience I thought it would be. It reminded me of a teaching from Zen Buddhism:
Before enlightenment: chop wood, carry water.
After enlightenment: chop wood, carry water.
After I published, I was still chopping wood and carrying water. I still had my day job. I still had to do my share the usual household scutwork. I still had to pay bills, pay taxes, etc. My life had changed; I was now a “published author”, but it hadn’t changed so much that I could lose touch with basic reality.
Thanks for sharing your experience, and you are completely right about “chop wood, carry water.” I spend a lot of time wondering if I would love or hate signing books for fans, and whether I would want to be involved in making the Netflix series or not.
In other words, I’m not a serious writer. It’s a daydream. Intellectually, I know that even if I were to sell the book, or even self publish, it wouldn’t change my life. Thousands of books are written and published every year, and success has as much to do with tenacity as it does luck, neither of which I believe I possess is sufficient quantities. But I dream about it the way one would dream about winning the lottery.
You put in the effort, and you should be proud of what you accomplished. Your words and ideas will live on as an indelible testament to your life. Unless it was something weird like hentai fanfic, in which case it’s probably better lost to history and you should keep that to yourself.
My lil bro is in the same situation sort of, so I drew a first page for his book to encourage him, we’ll see how it’ll turn out. Thing is we don’t care if it works or not, we’ll print a handful for the fun and that’s it. I mean if ever it happens.
Then, who knows, maybe he’ll start writing like crazy or IDK.
You like writing? Write. Rewrite your stuff, even if it doesn’t “fit” some book size, do a novel! 200 pages and it became a condensed 12 pages nobody wants to pay for? Good for you anyways. Drop what you’re doing and write something else. There is no one looking down on you in the evening keeping check of if you have “advanced”.
Cheers and hope you’re finding the next line or new line!
Publishing my book. I always think, “some day, I’m going to take the time to edit it and make it good enough to publish, and people will love it.” Then I go back to it and remember that it’s terrible and massively overwrought. I can’t even finish it much less make it good. And it’s like a dam in the creative part of my brain. I can’t think of another thing that isn’t just a lesser version of the project I thought was good but isn’t.
This isn’t me trolling for encouragement. I’m not a writer, and I know I don’t have the focus or stamina to write professionally. This was a dalliance, and I’m happy with my life and my accomplishments. It’s just that every once in a while, I think about publishing a book.
I’ve published two novels. One sold well enough to complicate my tax prep for a few years, and the other bombed. They’re both out of print so I won’t waste your time with titles. In neither case was it the life-changing experience I thought it would be. It reminded me of a teaching from Zen Buddhism:
After I published, I was still chopping wood and carrying water. I still had my day job. I still had to do my share the usual household scutwork. I still had to pay bills, pay taxes, etc. My life had changed; I was now a “published author”, but it hadn’t changed so much that I could lose touch with basic reality.
Thanks for sharing your experience, and you are completely right about “chop wood, carry water.” I spend a lot of time wondering if I would love or hate signing books for fans, and whether I would want to be involved in making the Netflix series or not.
In other words, I’m not a serious writer. It’s a daydream. Intellectually, I know that even if I were to sell the book, or even self publish, it wouldn’t change my life. Thousands of books are written and published every year, and success has as much to do with tenacity as it does luck, neither of which I believe I possess is sufficient quantities. But I dream about it the way one would dream about winning the lottery.
You put in the effort, and you should be proud of what you accomplished. Your words and ideas will live on as an indelible testament to your life. Unless it was something weird like hentai fanfic, in which case it’s probably better lost to history and you should keep that to yourself.
My lil bro is in the same situation sort of, so I drew a first page for his book to encourage him, we’ll see how it’ll turn out. Thing is we don’t care if it works or not, we’ll print a handful for the fun and that’s it. I mean if ever it happens.
Then, who knows, maybe he’ll start writing like crazy or IDK.
You like writing? Write. Rewrite your stuff, even if it doesn’t “fit” some book size, do a novel! 200 pages and it became a condensed 12 pages nobody wants to pay for? Good for you anyways. Drop what you’re doing and write something else. There is no one looking down on you in the evening keeping check of if you have “advanced”.
Cheers and hope you’re finding the next line or new line!