I began this journey just over two years ago. In a few days it will be the second anniversary of the publishing of my first novel a feat I never knew I wanted to achieve until I did it. With nothing more than a PC and an idea I did something 99% of people say they want but only 1% of them do.
But I found out I couldn’t stop. I liked it, I loved it. I wanted to write more and so I did. I don’t know when I will stop. I don’t know if I can.
But doing it alone comes at a cost. A cost in equipment, time, money and relationships. I didn’t expect to get rich but I hoped that I might at least break even. Perhaps one day I could sell enough to say that it has all been worth it.
But selling is hard and expensive. Between begging my family and friends to “like” a book at an ebook retailer (and getting none) and paying a fortune to marketers and seeing little return I sometimes feel that I am wasting my time. But it just got worse.
Last night I stumbled across a site that was offering my books for sale.They were selling my books that I had spend 100s of hours writing and not paying me a cent. And they had sold so many books that I could have almost have broken even.
Writing is cruel.
Leave a Reply