Random Stream of Consciousness

I haven’t been writing lately. I’ve only added maybe a thousand words in the last two weeks. I have been conflicted about the whole idea, my hopes dashed from within by multiple factors. I am concerned nobody would ever want to read it, and I have good reason to think so.  I can’t even get people to read what I have so far for free, aside from one of my cousins. Not to mention that whole “From the Hollow” self-publishing bullshit I did three weeks ago. There hasn’t been a single sale since I put it up for free for two days. That was…what, two weeks ago? About that. Not one! You know what this means? Simply put, it is generating absolutely NO INTEREST. Plug away as I might, I’m consistently met with remarkable such as “Oh, that sounds interesting, I’ll buy it now!” or “Hey, it’s only a dollar, I support you!”
How about, instead of saying things you think will make me feel better, you can just tell the truth. “No, fuck off, I’m busy.” “I don’t want to read it, I’m not a big reader, I prefer just chilling out with a movie.” “Sorry Nick, but you’re a douchebag and I hate you.” That’s fine! Just stop lying! It’s not like I won’t notice, either. The sales reports are literally at the tip of my finger, I can check them anytime, day or night.
Ugh. The saddest part is I still enjoy writing. I enjoy the challenge brought forth by the creation, fixing the inconsistencies, making it a perfect, harmonic, living world, full of easy-to-believe characters and an impressionable background. I’m just losing faith in the process. What’s the point of going on if nobody gives a single, solitary shit? I want people to read it. I want to be told it sucks, or it’s good, or I have potential. I don’t care what the feedback is, as long as the feedback exists. It serves as proof that someone cared enough to read my work and then discuss it with me. Is that too much to ask?
Yes, apparently, it is.

I’m done ranting. I’m sure I offended some people with this. If they had the spare time to read it. Ha!

Technical Difficulties

Currently I find myself at a standstill.  I’m 34,000 words into this thing, this monster of a tale, and I know where I want to go but I can’t find a way to get there.  This happens far too often; I need to write more detailed outlines instead of choosing a destination and working my way toward it aimlessly.

Doesn’t matter.  I’ll figure it out one way or another.  Tonight’s goal is to hit 36,000 words.  I intend to reach that milestone within the next few hours.  Wish me luck.

Formulaic Destiny

I have always been a bit of a night owl, for as long as I can remember.  Nowadays I spend my nights and early mornings writing and researching what I’ll need for the future. Last night was no different as I was up writing my book until about 3am, then continued browsing various blogs and articles related to agents and book launches.
Sometimes I wonder why I do it, only able to focus on the negatives, asking why I bother when I will ultimately fail. Writing is indeed a labor of love, and it has become nearly the only thing I enjoy doing.  For me, it is less about the money and more about spreading my work, hoping for constructive criticism from every possible source available.
Last night I reached 33,000 words. That is roughly 35%-40% complete, going by industry standards.  It still requires weeks of attention, editing, proofreading, and rewriting, but that’s to be expected. At the moment I am just proud to be making progress each and every day.