I say! A good morning to you! No idea why I’m talking like that. Stopping it right now.
Welcome to SERE. Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape.
I. Survival. Another day, another “WTF am I even doing this for?” series of thoughts.
O, Legion of Fan™, the news, I fear that it is most disheartening.
I checked the traffic/stats for the other site, [tooltip tip="Romancing the Kink"]RTK[/tooltip]. Because I’m the WEBMISTRESS (oh what an amusing little misnomer!), right? And the news, cap’n, she is grim and more grim, my little Legion of Fanlets. Not for RTK, it’s fine. But for me personally. I’m not saying that people don’t come to RTK to read my crap — no wait, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Stats don’t lie, motherfuckers!
Not sure what I can do about it, though. Coupla author-buds tell me the answer is “Publish more books ASAP.” Well, uh, yeah. Working on that. Although … I’m not at all sure that Bound for Disappointment (the parody thing) will help my “budding” erotica career. It could well choke the last little bit of air from its gasping lungs, which might well be a blessing because, you know, lingering and all. [tooltip tip="DO NOT RESUSCITATE!"]DNR[/tooltip]! So hard on the family.
Reviews. I can’t read them anymore. I won’t be reading them anymore. Evah!
Why? Because they only make me … angry and then I feel bad about myself and go into a shame spiral. Once there, I can’t write anything except the kind of thing you’re reading right now. And no one will buy this sort of thing, will they? No.
Also, as an “authorish” type you’re not “allowed” to respond to reviews. Do you have any idea how hard that is for someone like me? To not respond? A couple of times I’ve nearly exploded from the inside out. Like in that sci-fi movie Scanners. Or, if that one’s too old for you, remember how Arnold Schwarzenegger’s eyeballs and tongue popped in the original Total Recall? When I read bad reviews of my books, I look just like that as I struggle not to reply to the “reader.”
Anyway, I hope everyone will reethspeck my wishes and keep the reviews and sales and lucrative contract signings and promos (“My book just hit #1 again and Larry King mentioned me last night — again — oh the tedium!”) and publicity and all that — mine and theirs — the fuck away from me. Bitter old bag here. I own it.
Seriously. I will hide if I have to! Spiderhole. Hey, worked for Saddam. No wait, it didn’t. Still, I must try. Thank you for your cooperation
Guess what I realized lately? I can’t fucking write mainstream “erotic romance.” And I don’t think I want to. I’m not a typical “woman,” I don’t reckon. It’s not that I hate romance, but I can’t really write it, I don’t think. At least not at the levels that “readers” seem to want.
So, I’ll TRY to keep writing my own special brand of awful, plotless, banned adult-tagged stuff that’s invisible on Amazon and worldwide. Worldwide invisibility is my new goal. Envy me bitchizz. At least I can … spell.
Good DAY, Sir!
[tooltip tip="Too long, didn't read"]TL;DR[/tooltip]: I am a cow wandering from the herd. Moo. Moo.