At the time of writing this, the world is a mess. This isn’t about that, but that ain’t helping. There are times when I’m late
I tend to have trouble with middles and I think this is common. Normally I am a “pants” writing, someone who discovers the story, the characters, the whole package, as they write.
I admit that some of my ideas about self-publishing are dated, like 2009 dated and my hesitation of putting my writing out for people to
As if the whole world has to be Instagrammable — and yes, it must since soon the only way we’ll be able to feed ourselves is with that sweet, sweet influencer affiliate money (I’m counting on you, Hot Pockets)…
I find myself getting anxious, watching videos in particular, about who I am supposed to be as an independent writer and how productive I need to be to succeed.
I could start talking about how goals were lost, intentions were well-intended, things were missed, and shit was not finished. But unless you want me to populate this entire post with more passive verbs and self-flagellation, I’m going to stop now and starting looking forward.