So I’m not feeling great again, psychologically speaking. I do okay for the most part, and then I look at the above image.
The ‘Also Boughts’.
That is the Also Bought section for Demoness IV. All of those books are killing it. They are all selling really, really well. On top of that, look at all those fucking reviews. My most reviewed title is a three-way tie between Demoness, Hellcats, and Women of the Wild - The Dryad, with 20 reviews each. Which looks SO impressive next to the also boughts that are sporting over a hundred reviews on average.
Honestly, I’m sitting here watching my sales decline yet again, wondering yet again if this is it, this is the point where my career starts going down the path of no longer being viable, if I’m going to sit here, writing my ass off just so that I can keep my head above water, while other people drift past me merrily on fucking yachts throwing sex parties.
I know the answer to this is “Don’t compare yourself to other people”, but to be honest, how can I not? How can I not look at these stories with similar covers and similar styles to what I’m doing and ask what the fuck am I doing wrong?
Writing is the only thing I’m good at. It’s my life. It’s what I am. Some people are what they do. I’m that person. I am my writing. Although I definitely had some nice ups in my career since starting this, I honestly feel like I’m driving a car that could die at any moment and there’s nothing I can do to stop it from dying no matter how hard I try, no matter how much of my blood and sweat and tears I pour into it, while everyone else is zipping by on the highway in clean, shiny brand new cars that they hardly even have to try to take care of and keep running.
In a way it’s way worse now because I actually DID blow up in mid-2018 so I know for a fact that I CAN do it. I’m not doing anything differently now! I just fucking wrote books and put them out there. So what happened? Was it a fluke and I’m destined to failure?
It’s not that I don’t appreciate the fans that I have. I do. Like genuinely. They are awesome and amazing. To be honest, I wish I could be satisfied with what I have now. I put out a book every month or two, and it does okay, and my fans read it and enjoy it and we all have fun. Except that that isn’t how the world works. I have bills to pay, I have people in my life that could really use financial help. Obviously context is important. I’m not drowning in debt or in poverty. I know that I’m lucky to even be where I am now and I could have it a million times worse.
But it just fucking kills me, it feels like it’s eating me alive, the fact that I’m doing all this and have been for years and I’m still just some low-ranking author that almost no one knows about. I’ve got fucking 150 Twitter followers, I’m lucky if a hundred people visit this website every month. Hardly anyone cares about my work beyond blasting through it maybe over a weekend. Getting people to leave a review is like pulling teeth, and yet these other authors can get over two hundred fucking reviews apparently without trying!
I’m just sitting here watching my sales dwindle and I don’t know what the fuck to do. I just feel like shit.