so....I want to be published. Join the millions of others, you say. Well, I don't want to be one of the millions. I know that I'm better than at least 99% of those fuckers (at this point, it may be the alcohol talking) so why the hell am I so frakkin scared to go out there and sell my skin, bones and soul?
Well, maybe it's because I have a wedding coming up, maybe it's because I don't do well with criticism, maybe it's because I have a fear of failure---whatever the reason is, I haven't covered it in the therapy, so therefore I'm screwed.
I write Urban Fantasy/Romance with a slight dash of mystery. It's PNR or Harlequin with an actual frakkin' plot. Think Linda Lael Miller meets Patricia Briggs meets Marisa de los Santos. If you've read anything by any of these woman, you know that that it's bound to be good. If not, what the hell are you reading this blog entry for - get started on your reading lists! :)
So, anyway - point of the story is, I keep writing, there's no one to read it. I'm becoming like Jonathan Swift (????) and his misanthropic ideas. My writing is going to end up in a desk, folder, harddrive that noone will be able to access. I will become a writer that only my greatgrandchildren (If I'm LUcky) will read.
I don't want to be famous, I just want people to read my shit/stuff. I uploaded at urbis.com (my username is CJ7) and I'm nervous. I'm more nervous that noone will actually read the prologue of THE KELLERS than someone will hate it.
Isn't that sad?
mood: drunk -
Music: Not about Love - Fiona Apple