So ... I've been a bit busy. I'm about to launch my thirteenth book into the world. Consider this a warning to those who are close to me. Post-launch aftershocks are real.
For the last nine months, I've been experimenting with a concept called "Write to Market." Basically, this is selecting a specific trending market and putting out frequent content in hopes to sell tons of books. There's a lot more to it, but that's the gist. At first it was fabulous ... but then the pendulum swung the other way. Now it's just exhausting. Don't get me wrong, it was an incredible experience. I loved writing every single one of those books. I think they're solid, action-packed page-tuners. I wouldn't publish something that wasn't up to snuff. I respect my readers too much to hack it out. I'm just saying they're not literary masterpieces. Child please, I write swashbuckling science fiction.
Now that I'm finished with my commitments (except for this one last dragon-themed novella that's due in a month), I'm at a crossroads. I don't know what to write next. This is unprecedented for someone as anal retentive as me. I usually know what's happening the next six months out. I'm a planner. A producer of things. Type A. I don't relax or go with the flow. I'm uptight. This might be why I suffer from frequent bouts of depression.
Anxiety is the gateway drug to depression.
If any of you writers out there suffer from the insanity of being a creative thinker, you're not alone. Writers are experts at concocting mental torture because that's what we do--come up with the worst or best case scenarios. All day long. Add publishing to the mix and, well, it's a recipe for disaster. My sponsor looked at me the other day and said, "I think you get triggered every time you launch a book." I laughed. "You think?" Triggered is code for FUCKING INSANE. I've launched twelve books and it does NOT get easier.
But I wouldn't change a thing.
So why on earth would I continue to torture myself on a continual basis?
This is how I explain it ... I've never had babies, but I think it's kind of like
that -- you spend months creating your book, the process has been painful and
grueling, but incredibly rewarding and amazing. When your book is finally finished, you're ready to "give birth" to the thing. So you launch it into the
world. After that happens, you're nuts for a little while. You might even have postpartum
depression. Then things taper out and you forget the misery you just
went through, you only see the best parts. So you get pregnant again and
go through the whole mess all over.
So yeah, it's a form of insanity, but whatever. I can't imagine how much more insane I'd be if I weren't writing. Oh wait, yes I can. I put off writing books until I was in my mid-thirties. Up to that point, I was boozing and using like nobody's business in hopes to stifle the relentless voice in my head that wanted--needed--to be heard. I'm putting this lightly. I was bat shit crazy. Ask my ex-husbands.
It's a miracle I'm alive today. I owe it to God for pulling me through the fire and not letting me haphazardly throw away the gift He gave to me. The call to write. If you've heard it, I'm telling you now, there's no way around it. So go write something.
It saves lives.