A lifetime of fucking so many things up,
A lifetime living in this filthy fucking flesh.
A new story will be told, and every problem has a solution,
This is mine-
Click
You wouldn't believe how simple it really was,
I just put the gun in my mouth
Tasted the metallic residue on the tip of the barrel,
Closed my eyes, bit my teeth, pulled the trigger-
Bang.
All my insecurities came spilling out
In the darkest shade
A crimson, clumpy puddle
Of all that I ever was.
Mmm finally,
A warm place.
Somewhere far away
From all of you.
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
I Want to Quit
Introduction
I'm not really sure if this will be a good post or not (grammatically and quality wise), but frankly, I don't care, I have a few things to get off of my chest and some writing that needs done. No, the website I am using for this post does not support any fancier looking formats and I can't afford a thirty dollar/month blog program for writing something that nobody will read.
It is now 12:30 a.m. as I am writing this post, and if you're reading this, welcome, if not, well, no surprise there. I can't seem to get people to read my work even if it's free, perhaps I'm cursed (being a bastard and all).
As you probably notice from my past blog posts, I had a few free write/flash fiction stories I shared on here and I couldn't even bother the people in my life to click the link to the posts I shared on a multitude of places. Before I forget what I am going to say, I'm going to get right into our next topic.
I'm at the end of my rope, people. Constantly working a physically/mentally draining job that I hate with every fiber of me being, is starting to take a toll on me. I have no energy for writing, no time for family, no time for relaxation, it's just a constant haze of stress and depression from here. To catch you up to speed, I am a twenty-one year old horror "author" who just can't seem to catch a break. I moved out when I was nineteen due to arguments with my mother becoming exaggerated by people in a hurry (confusing? Good. I'm not going to pin point on that one.). Even now, I have hardly any time to write this blog because my trash apartment and needy wife are yelling at me right now to get to bed, so forgive me if this seems a little rushed (great, now she's going to see my post and all Hell is going to break loose because so many people in my life can't keep their mouths shut. For the record, I think I love her she's just very, very needy at the moment).
Anyway, we're getting off topic (if there is one in the first place).
I am walking this thin, dental-floss rope with my view on writing, or art in general for that matter; on one side I fall and wind up in a boiling pot of raging despair, alcoholism, a miserable dead-end "9-5" job, and borderline suicidal, working and chasing after a dream until I'm gripped by cancer, a cardiac arrest, or a stroke.... on the other side, I fall and wind up quitting everything I've ever worked so hard for to get to this point, and go to college, work a job I could care less for, retire, and die as another product in a materialistic society (for those of you who do/did go to college, if you are happy doing what you're doing, redact my previous statement. For those of you who hate their job, is the money really worth it?).
Yes, yes, I have heard it a hundred times before, "We all have to work jobs we hate, Kyle." To which I always reply, "Because you settled for it."
Onto the next topic, the bullshit hand I've been dealt while pursuing my dreams.
Financial Problems
In 2014, I graduated from my bullshit high school, got a bullshit job, and finished a book I had been writing for three years: Never Forgive Me, Never Forget Me if you look at a lot of my social media accounts, I talk about this book a lot; that's because it is the most personal thing I have ever made before, everything has a symbol about the emotions and anxieties I felt for those three years. I published the book in February of 2016, (had to save up money for an editor, formatting, and cover art while trying to save up for a car, a place of my own, and college on my $8.15/hr job at 26 hours a week) and instantly spent a hundred dollars alone on marketing with Facebook, after writing the most genius sales pitch I ever mustered (dumb mistake), sold four books. Around this time, I had moved out and got a better job at a whopping $9/hr. People (authors from whom I asked for advice) told me my book was too expensive, so I lowered the Kindle price to $0.99 and the print price to $6.99 and spent another fifty on marketing with Facebook and Twitter, sold fifteen books, so I spent another HUNDRED on marketing and sold only six books, but had over a hundred likes on my Facebook page.
Let's pause and tally that up really quick:
Professional editor: $122
Formatting: $25
Cover art: $15 (which I later lost the rights to)
Marketing: $250
Total so far:
$412.00
Okay, back to the story.
By this time, I had three five-star reviews "Cool" I thought. So I started spending $20/month on marketing with different social media accounts, until August when my second book A Stray Child was released. By this time, after having run a free promotion I was at a total of fifty-seven books for Never Forgive Me, Never Forget Me and now four five-star reviews. I hardly marketed A Stray Child, I think I spent a total of fifty bucks on marketing this book. Next, my first short-story collection was published and I did absolutely nothing for this release, no marketing except for a few posts on my Facebook page (I was caught up in a lot of stuff in my personal life, and had started this blog as a hope for another means of marketing).
I have now sold at this moment:
Never Forgive Me, Never Forget Me: 104 books (most being free) 5-star average on Amazon
A Stray Child: 121 books (some being free) 3.5-star average on Amazon (3 five-stars and 1 one-star)
203: A Short-Story Collection: 8 books 5-star average on Amazon (only one review)
..........
$1,046.74
That's how much I've spent on my four books I have self-published. I have made $40 on my books.
I make, roughly, $1,200/month and all of my bills are split between me and my wife.
Rent: $305
Electric: $25
Car stuff: $250
Gas: $20
Food: $100
Phone: $40
Credit card: $25
Cable: $40
Dog/Cat food: $30
$815.00 roughly, fluctuates often.
Then I have Savings, the occasional need for new socks or milk, and if I ever want to pay my 25% APR card off? Well, I need to pay a lump sum right? And my bank finds it funny to charge a monthly fee to have an account with them if you don't have a "credible" balance.. that fee is $25 and is a monthly payment, because I never have the $500 minimum they require and there are NO OTHER BANKS AROUND ME!
I usually find myself with a hundred bucks at the end of the month if I'm lucky.
Now why this massive chart of the shit I pay for? Well that's the first reason why I don't think I can continue with this endeavor. I can't afford to pour all of my resources into these books if they just aren't getting picked up. Cruel isn't it? That's not all though. NEXT SECTION!!!!
Lack of Support
Usually, you'll see a family being supportive of one's dreams no matter how bad they are at it right? Not in my family. They either don't take me seriously and brush me off, criticize me for pursuing my dream and not going to college, tell me there is no work in my writing, or just in general not being supportive. I had to lie to a few of them and say I got a movie deal just so I would feel like somebody is pushing me in my endeavors. My wife doesn't, my mom doesn't, my grandmas don't, my uncles, aunts, cousins, friends..... nobody. I am completely on my own and it often times makes me wonder if I am just trash as a writer, despite a handful of strangers telling me how great my work is and I'm sick and tired of being the only one proud of myself.
Competition
The first successful self-published author I asked for guidance from told me that we are a community and we need to work together, he also told me not to expect to be the next J. K. Rowling or Stephen King, which I don't, I just want to pay my bills even if it means scraping by on occasion. This author was somebody I looked up to for a very long time, only recently has he found success and gotten full-blown movie deals and such.... which made him drop me like a hot potato and never reply to any of my e-mails or messages again.
There is two new authors in particular who I am going to speak about, and I bring them up because they have put a massive strain on the joy I use to feel when writing my stories.
The first one: He more or less insulted me for giving honest feedback to help him, then proceeded to ignore me and try to push his book on others.
The Second One: I capitalize his name for a reason, he is my main purpose of this paragraph. So you know all that wrote earlier? Well, flip that completely and you'll have this guy. He has every single advantage one could ask for. He's got a good job, lives at home with mom and dad (who pay all of his bills, mind you), and was a shining star in high school. Petty? You bet, but it makes my blood boil thinking about him. The only thing he pays for is the gas in his car and his one book which he has spent a small fortune on. He paid a little over what I paid for my books grand total on marketing alone, $1,050 on MARKETING. You know why? Because he doesn't have to worry about jack-shit. Shit, his editor does editing and formatting work for free (I tried to get in touch with her but she ignored me, considering the conflicts we had in the past during school), he does his own cover art (which is a bad photo shop job if you ask me), and only worries about marketing. Within two months of creating his page, he had just over a thousand followers, was selling quite a few books at $2.99 a POP! Yet, MINE were too expensive, the shit I dumped my heart and soul into? The worst thing about this? He started writing as a HOBBY because it was EASY! Now he's quit his great job and pursues writing full-time ON ONE BOOK. I have absolutely never seen or read anything like it before. Maybe I'm upset because he paid his way to the top? Not likely, I think I am upset because this individual use to harass the holy-shit out of me in high school and now he's living my dream? Petty? Like I said, yes it fucking is but I don't care.
The "Self-Published" Title
Despite what many articles say online, the "Self-published" title is the bottom line for all writers in our "community". I pursued this route to have full control on my work, but now it seems I'm labeled mediocre without the "professionals" even giving my work a once-over, simply because I am self-published. I suppose we live in a society where doing anything for yourself is strictly forbidden, as if the "pursuit" of happiness is now more of an escalator furthering your descent into the mundane, miserable existence of our modern world.
Conclusion
I am once again alone and forgotten, back to square one, as if I am releasing a book again for the first time, except this time might be my last. I didn't just title my upcoming book on a whim, I put more thought into that title than I have for any other book. "Born Again" is going to be my new, much more brutal approach to the horror genre and this is not just the title of my new book, it is the title for the new chapter in my life as an artist, and perhaps my last. I will make a book that establishes myself as the villain I was destined to be. The only fear I have is this: when I am born again, I might very-well be a still-birth.
I have to go to bed now, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep. I'm on the end of my rope with this market. It's caused more pain, debt, and rage in my life than anything ever before. It seems to become a place-- no an ocean-- overflowing with privilege, beauty, and toxicity (like the rest of the art world seems to be succumbing to). Just like this blog post will probably get a lot of shit (if ever seen) because authors aren't suppose to speak their minds anymore, apparently.
I'm not really sure if this will be a good post or not (grammatically and quality wise), but frankly, I don't care, I have a few things to get off of my chest and some writing that needs done. No, the website I am using for this post does not support any fancier looking formats and I can't afford a thirty dollar/month blog program for writing something that nobody will read.
It is now 12:30 a.m. as I am writing this post, and if you're reading this, welcome, if not, well, no surprise there. I can't seem to get people to read my work even if it's free, perhaps I'm cursed (being a bastard and all).
As you probably notice from my past blog posts, I had a few free write/flash fiction stories I shared on here and I couldn't even bother the people in my life to click the link to the posts I shared on a multitude of places. Before I forget what I am going to say, I'm going to get right into our next topic.
I'm at the end of my rope, people. Constantly working a physically/mentally draining job that I hate with every fiber of me being, is starting to take a toll on me. I have no energy for writing, no time for family, no time for relaxation, it's just a constant haze of stress and depression from here. To catch you up to speed, I am a twenty-one year old horror "author" who just can't seem to catch a break. I moved out when I was nineteen due to arguments with my mother becoming exaggerated by people in a hurry (confusing? Good. I'm not going to pin point on that one.). Even now, I have hardly any time to write this blog because my trash apartment and needy wife are yelling at me right now to get to bed, so forgive me if this seems a little rushed (great, now she's going to see my post and all Hell is going to break loose because so many people in my life can't keep their mouths shut. For the record, I think I love her she's just very, very needy at the moment).
Anyway, we're getting off topic (if there is one in the first place).
I am walking this thin, dental-floss rope with my view on writing, or art in general for that matter; on one side I fall and wind up in a boiling pot of raging despair, alcoholism, a miserable dead-end "9-5" job, and borderline suicidal, working and chasing after a dream until I'm gripped by cancer, a cardiac arrest, or a stroke.... on the other side, I fall and wind up quitting everything I've ever worked so hard for to get to this point, and go to college, work a job I could care less for, retire, and die as another product in a materialistic society (for those of you who do/did go to college, if you are happy doing what you're doing, redact my previous statement. For those of you who hate their job, is the money really worth it?).
Yes, yes, I have heard it a hundred times before, "We all have to work jobs we hate, Kyle." To which I always reply, "Because you settled for it."
Onto the next topic, the bullshit hand I've been dealt while pursuing my dreams.
Financial Problems
In 2014, I graduated from my bullshit high school, got a bullshit job, and finished a book I had been writing for three years: Never Forgive Me, Never Forget Me if you look at a lot of my social media accounts, I talk about this book a lot; that's because it is the most personal thing I have ever made before, everything has a symbol about the emotions and anxieties I felt for those three years. I published the book in February of 2016, (had to save up money for an editor, formatting, and cover art while trying to save up for a car, a place of my own, and college on my $8.15/hr job at 26 hours a week) and instantly spent a hundred dollars alone on marketing with Facebook, after writing the most genius sales pitch I ever mustered (dumb mistake), sold four books. Around this time, I had moved out and got a better job at a whopping $9/hr. People (authors from whom I asked for advice) told me my book was too expensive, so I lowered the Kindle price to $0.99 and the print price to $6.99 and spent another fifty on marketing with Facebook and Twitter, sold fifteen books, so I spent another HUNDRED on marketing and sold only six books, but had over a hundred likes on my Facebook page.
Let's pause and tally that up really quick:
Professional editor: $122
Formatting: $25
Cover art: $15 (which I later lost the rights to)
Marketing: $250
Total so far:
$412.00
Okay, back to the story.
By this time, I had three five-star reviews "Cool" I thought. So I started spending $20/month on marketing with different social media accounts, until August when my second book A Stray Child was released. By this time, after having run a free promotion I was at a total of fifty-seven books for Never Forgive Me, Never Forget Me and now four five-star reviews. I hardly marketed A Stray Child, I think I spent a total of fifty bucks on marketing this book. Next, my first short-story collection was published and I did absolutely nothing for this release, no marketing except for a few posts on my Facebook page (I was caught up in a lot of stuff in my personal life, and had started this blog as a hope for another means of marketing).
I have now sold at this moment:
Never Forgive Me, Never Forget Me: 104 books (most being free) 5-star average on Amazon
A Stray Child: 121 books (some being free) 3.5-star average on Amazon (3 five-stars and 1 one-star)
203: A Short-Story Collection: 8 books 5-star average on Amazon (only one review)
..........
$1,046.74
That's how much I've spent on my four books I have self-published. I have made $40 on my books.
I make, roughly, $1,200/month and all of my bills are split between me and my wife.
Rent: $305
Electric: $25
Car stuff: $250
Gas: $20
Food: $100
Phone: $40
Credit card: $25
Cable: $40
Dog/Cat food: $30
$815.00 roughly, fluctuates often.
Then I have Savings, the occasional need for new socks or milk, and if I ever want to pay my 25% APR card off? Well, I need to pay a lump sum right? And my bank finds it funny to charge a monthly fee to have an account with them if you don't have a "credible" balance.. that fee is $25 and is a monthly payment, because I never have the $500 minimum they require and there are NO OTHER BANKS AROUND ME!
I usually find myself with a hundred bucks at the end of the month if I'm lucky.
Now why this massive chart of the shit I pay for? Well that's the first reason why I don't think I can continue with this endeavor. I can't afford to pour all of my resources into these books if they just aren't getting picked up. Cruel isn't it? That's not all though. NEXT SECTION!!!!
Lack of Support
Usually, you'll see a family being supportive of one's dreams no matter how bad they are at it right? Not in my family. They either don't take me seriously and brush me off, criticize me for pursuing my dream and not going to college, tell me there is no work in my writing, or just in general not being supportive. I had to lie to a few of them and say I got a movie deal just so I would feel like somebody is pushing me in my endeavors. My wife doesn't, my mom doesn't, my grandmas don't, my uncles, aunts, cousins, friends..... nobody. I am completely on my own and it often times makes me wonder if I am just trash as a writer, despite a handful of strangers telling me how great my work is and I'm sick and tired of being the only one proud of myself.
Competition
The first successful self-published author I asked for guidance from told me that we are a community and we need to work together, he also told me not to expect to be the next J. K. Rowling or Stephen King, which I don't, I just want to pay my bills even if it means scraping by on occasion. This author was somebody I looked up to for a very long time, only recently has he found success and gotten full-blown movie deals and such.... which made him drop me like a hot potato and never reply to any of my e-mails or messages again.
There is two new authors in particular who I am going to speak about, and I bring them up because they have put a massive strain on the joy I use to feel when writing my stories.
The first one: He more or less insulted me for giving honest feedback to help him, then proceeded to ignore me and try to push his book on others.
The Second One: I capitalize his name for a reason, he is my main purpose of this paragraph. So you know all that wrote earlier? Well, flip that completely and you'll have this guy. He has every single advantage one could ask for. He's got a good job, lives at home with mom and dad (who pay all of his bills, mind you), and was a shining star in high school. Petty? You bet, but it makes my blood boil thinking about him. The only thing he pays for is the gas in his car and his one book which he has spent a small fortune on. He paid a little over what I paid for my books grand total on marketing alone, $1,050 on MARKETING. You know why? Because he doesn't have to worry about jack-shit. Shit, his editor does editing and formatting work for free (I tried to get in touch with her but she ignored me, considering the conflicts we had in the past during school), he does his own cover art (which is a bad photo shop job if you ask me), and only worries about marketing. Within two months of creating his page, he had just over a thousand followers, was selling quite a few books at $2.99 a POP! Yet, MINE were too expensive, the shit I dumped my heart and soul into? The worst thing about this? He started writing as a HOBBY because it was EASY! Now he's quit his great job and pursues writing full-time ON ONE BOOK. I have absolutely never seen or read anything like it before. Maybe I'm upset because he paid his way to the top? Not likely, I think I am upset because this individual use to harass the holy-shit out of me in high school and now he's living my dream? Petty? Like I said, yes it fucking is but I don't care.
The "Self-Published" Title
Despite what many articles say online, the "Self-published" title is the bottom line for all writers in our "community". I pursued this route to have full control on my work, but now it seems I'm labeled mediocre without the "professionals" even giving my work a once-over, simply because I am self-published. I suppose we live in a society where doing anything for yourself is strictly forbidden, as if the "pursuit" of happiness is now more of an escalator furthering your descent into the mundane, miserable existence of our modern world.
Conclusion
I am once again alone and forgotten, back to square one, as if I am releasing a book again for the first time, except this time might be my last. I didn't just title my upcoming book on a whim, I put more thought into that title than I have for any other book. "Born Again" is going to be my new, much more brutal approach to the horror genre and this is not just the title of my new book, it is the title for the new chapter in my life as an artist, and perhaps my last. I will make a book that establishes myself as the villain I was destined to be. The only fear I have is this: when I am born again, I might very-well be a still-birth.
I have to go to bed now, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep. I'm on the end of my rope with this market. It's caused more pain, debt, and rage in my life than anything ever before. It seems to become a place-- no an ocean-- overflowing with privilege, beauty, and toxicity (like the rest of the art world seems to be succumbing to). Just like this blog post will probably get a lot of shit (if ever seen) because authors aren't suppose to speak their minds anymore, apparently.
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