Well, I Broke My Brain

So, believe it or not, I’ve just got about got some critique copies of my novel ready (I ordered the first proof for myself mere moments ago).

Naturally, being the typical, pathetically insecure writerly type, I am now convinced that it sucks beyond all redemption. My response to this was to spend all last night reading 1-star reviews of popular books on Amazon, both traditionally published and indie. While this helped at the time (for some reason), I then had nightmares about reviews of my own work piling up. Although, in my unconscious’s defense, most of them were not negative. Strangely, though, the highly positive ones scared me just as much.

So a word about this whole indie publishing thing. Since this book is the first of a series, I’m not bothering to give it away until at least one sequel is ready. In fact, I will probably do little if any marketing until then. So I expect all of two people to ever find and buy it at first, but I’ll be getting my foot in the door.

I’ve also been sampling some of the indie lit out there on my brand new Kindle (thanks, honey!), and what I’ve tried so far is, honestly, subpar. Not badly written, as one might suspect, just kinda . . . meh. Yet the titles I’ve tried, not to name names, are ones that are selling reasonably well despite their indie status, and have boatloads of glowing, seemingly authentic reviews, so what do I know?

Another worry I have is that maybe I have lost interest in most fiction. I used to read a lot more back in high school when I had more time for such things, and I’ve only grown more cynical and impatient over the years since. I’ve put down several popular, traditionally published novels lately, wondering what the appeal is. I never used to do that. I’m almost afraid to go back and read some of my old favorites. Take, for instance, the Wheel of Time series, which is finally scheduled to be concluded next year under the hand of Brandon Sanderson. I plan to go through and read the whole series then, as I liked what I read of the series–12 years ago! Was I even the same person then?

So, yeah, I’m a mess. If I go read some Heinlein and discover I don’t like it anymore, I will probably go cry in a corner.

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