Had a rough night. Probably the roughest in a long time. I know it's going to be one of those sleeps where I wake up and it doesn't feel real because that's how triggering and bad it was. I don't want to get to into detail, as this is still the internet and Its in one of the quietest corners, but some things shouldn't be shared.
I'll just talk about something else that weighs heavy on my mind.
I think I am going to give up on my career as a writer. Hence the title of this post. I have been writing for 6 years. Of those 6 years in total, I put up 10 books. Only 8 remain as I realized they don't suit my image anymore. During those times of 6 years I sold 286 books, got 18 solid reviews, a small following on Instagram with about 1600, then 450 on threads, and then 1400 on TikTok. The best part is when you search my pen name, an actual footprint starts to form. I seem to have one loyal fan who writes a review under every poetry collection I publish... I saw her blog post about me... which is why I started this blog. but then here is the catch out of those 286 books I sold, only about 40 were paid for as the only time I "sell" a book is when it's a free deal. Now I simply happy that people even thought to put them in their library, but it feels like a bad thing for me as a writer that out of 286 books sold... I have 18 reviews, and most of which I asked for.
To have 286 copies of your book out and not be able to make a single one of those copy holders feel a thing enough to leave a review. No impression being made on 286 people means my books are basically just crap. Bad or good if people talk about it, it did something.
I tried campaigning where I wasted damn near 500 dollars just to get my book in front of people on amazon only to make less than 10 cents on each copy. I sold maybe 7 or 8 copies from this. Ive spent money on promotions on tik Tok and Instagram just so I could get my works in front of people's eyes because I genuinely thought I had something worth saying, especially to people who struggle with mental health just like me. All together in 6 years. I might have made 20 bucks from my sales. After pouring damn near 4k.
but it turns out in a sea of spectacular, I am not even a speck. My voice doesn't cling to anything or anyone. I have managed to fail at making meaningful connections 6 years straight as an author, and my own family members don't really care to hold their own copies of my books anymore. My partner buys my books, but even they don't read them!
It's almost like the writing world is trying to tell me something. I don't have "It" I don't even know what "It" is, I just know I don't have it.
I may make one last attempt at it; I have a few more books I want to do before I seal my " author career" as over. One is a space fantasy romance; this will probably end up being a series of 3 books. If I ever manage to write them... Its already outlined. Just have to sit down with a cup of joe with some music....
but my final sign off will probably be something I call Jupiter's Vault. It will have every poem I have ever written in it. (The best ones)
From the raw depressed ones to the ones filled with love, to the ones filled with awe, and more.
and to really make sure I did all I could... I am going to try to do poetry reads out loud on tik Tok even though I hate my face and my voice.
It's probably just one big waste of time anyway... If I fail all those projects above... I will at least publish my vault in one big book. Maybe title it...
Jupiter signing off.
#LOL
- Jupiter M. Moon
.
No comments:
Post a Comment