Sometimes . . .
I’ve been giving thought to a lot of things ever since I started this self-publishing experiment. Well, it started off as an experiment, anyway. The way I had it figured was that hopefully it would help me in becoming a known author.
Sadly, I’ve a long way to go before people really know of me. Sure, I’ve been around online for years, but aside from my friends and family and quite a few others that I’ve met along the way, people really don’t know that I’ve existed for so long.
I’ve set about in broadening my online presence, but I sometimes really do wonder if it’s really working. I know, I know – success doesn’t happen overnight; it takes time for that to happen.
I’ve been trying to get my work published for years, but most publishers won’t take chances with unsolicited manuscripts unless there’s an agent involved. I originally thought that self-publishing would be cake compared to all the trouble I’ve been going through in getting published. But it’s about the same, I think.
The most disheartening thing about it all is that the people that I thought would be there with me supporting my work are truly not there. Why? Because I don’t write in the same genre as they do. These are people I met in school and I know that it shouldn’t matter, but I considered them to be friends. People who shared the same passions as I do. I came to the realization recently that to them I’m just an acquaintance. Sure, I might have been a ‘friend’ in class, but now that it’s all ended, I’m just a name that they associate briefly with.
I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much. I really don’t. Perhaps it’s because I support their work and encourage them but have yet to see them do the same for me. It’s kinda like family, you’re there for them when they need you to be, but when you want them to be there, they turn a cold shoulder and look the other way. That’s what it’s felt like. It really has.
Perhaps, I just look too much into things, even though I know I shouldn’t. That’s one thing about my personality that I don’t like the most – I worry alot, about everything and anything. Writing is my life . . . my passion. I’ve been wanting this for so long that I can almost taste it. I just wish I didn’t feel so alone in trying to get there.