It's been another week, and I've not written anything. I've started a new promotions project, which is in the form of 10 tabs open and untouched on my browser. I've puttered around FB, but not done much of substance. The only thing I've done with any motivation is promote the fundraiser for the American Red Cross, "Coyote Fires."
I thought I was going to come back from my vacation rejuvenated and ready to write and market with new gusto. Instead, I find I'm even more apathetic. Maybe it's my own version of midlife crisis (without the hot sports car, alas--we ended up buying a "new" used minivan on vacation when ours broke down. Funny story; I'll tell you Monday.) Maybe I'm just being confronted with the fact that I'm just not as good as I think I am. Maybe I'm fighting God's will for me.
I don't know. But I do know that looking at my books' Amazon sales and ranks depresses me; that I don't make enough in royalties for a car payment; that even with a good cause and a fun story, I have only a handful of readers interested in my fundraiser; that even when I seem to make an impression on someone with my writing, I'm easily pushed off and forgotten.
Yet at the same time, I'm so grateful for the blessings I've had. I do have fans--many of whom are very loyal and have become dear friends as well. Plus, my writing has brought me into a world of such wonderful people, from the members of the Catholic Writers Guild and Broad Universe to the writers I've met through the Writers Chat Room, Yahoo groups, and Facebook. And just recently, two--yes--two!--of my books became finalists in the eFestival of Words Best eBook contest--and I didn't even have to nominate myself. I have publishers who are glad to take my works and love that I'm easy to edit and work hard at marketing, and are quick to tell me so.
I sit down before a work in progress and think, "Is it worth it?" I look at my marketing to-do list and wonder why I'm bothering. I start a new project and leave it open on the browser until it crashes, taking my half-started effort with it (like happened as I wrote this blog. Will pull hair later.)
It's not a matter of my "Muse leaving" me; anyone who reads this blog knows how I feel about that excuse. It's more about needing to figure out why I write: what I want out of my stories, what will bring me satisfaction. Whether I need to change my direction or just my attitude.
I'm not sure what that's going to mean as far as my writing. I mean, have I committed literary suicide just sharing this much? Will some of you think I'm being a whiner and an ingrate? (Trust me, I feel that way!) Should I share my soul-searching on this blog, or is that self-indulgent?
I'd be glad to know your thoughts. In the meantime, I'm not giving up. I'll still blog and promote my works. I owe my publishers that for the faith they've had in me. As for the rest...
Give me some time. I'll recapture that joy--and I'll be writing again.