I knew I was going to be happy when I was finally done writing, rewriting, publishing my story. Trust me. I was until I realized the margins suggested to me by Amazon itself was messed up or maybe, I messed it up in the transmission of everything. This lead to me realizing a few things. One, I really wish I knew someone in any major publishing company or division of a major publishing company. Self-publishing, for everything it means, sucks big time. I was going to go with a different cover idea, but in the end, I used a photo that I already was familiar with. I understand the importance of having a good cover, one that is catchy to the reader’s eye, but damn, a person could obsess about this forever. I decided to say to hell with it and accept it was what it was. I’m not made out of money and this leads me to the second topic.
Two, I really wish writing was easy and quick for me. I’m not one of those people who can churn out a novel in a year and all its rewrites and then start another one the following year to be written and rewritten. I know most people realize how much harder it is to write a novel versus a poetry book or a short story. Trust me, it is, and no one can convince me otherwise. Unless that person is writing a 200+ page poem without any breaks in between, as that takes discipline and creative longevity. I’m currently stuck in my second story idea because I’m tired and my eyes hurt. I can’t seem to find a routine to follow and stick with because it seems time is always slipping away from me. When I should be writing, I’m reading. When I’m coloring, I should be writing. When I should be writing, I’m watching TV. When I’m staring at the wall, I should be writing. You get the point. The passion is partly there. The drive is waning away. I want to do it, but not doing it for some reason.
Three, I really wish I get the right quotations for my next novel, not wrestle so much with margins, get a better cover design too. It all comes to the beginning. I need to write my story. I need to get it out. I’m stressed with what I’ve written already. I’m struggling with what narrative I use (going back and forth between first and third person). Believe me, first person is always easier to write but third person allows the writer to distance him or herself from the story. I guess this is what the rewrite is for, but the issue is I don’t want to do nearly the number of rewrites I did as my first novel. This is a hell to the no, I don’t want to do this. A part of me feels as if I have to justify my writing and convince the reader and future readers all my novel ideas are quite different and even novellas will be different too. I hope, at least, they are seen for their creativity, ingenious, and honesty. Whenever I’m blogging, I need to have the TV or movie on that I won’t pay attention to. Right now, Jaws is coming to an end. The shark is dead. Quint is dead. Brody and Hooper don’t know what day it is. This is sort of how I feel. All my days are blending together. Night is not day but it feels like it because soon September will be here and then 2022. I suppose, in between now and then, I need to swim back to shore instead of giving up writing. I owe it to the people whose lives are no longer lives. Most of all, I owe it to myself.