It’s time to grab yer sammiches, folks, because guess-thefuck-what?

The light at the end of the tunnel is here, and it’s beautiful!

I usually talk out of my ass, pretending like everything is okay. To keep things, ya know, profesh. But I don’t care anymore because the writerly life is full of bullshitery (mine, specifically) and I’m tired of brushing it under the rug.

But right now? Things are actually okay.

It’s been about three years, maybe a bit more, of my anti-writing stint. I couldn’t for the life of me summon the motivation to write. Even when I was like fuck it, I’ll just force myself to do it (as mentioned in this post), it didn’t last.

What changed, you may ask?

What was finally the thing that broke through that seemingly impenetrable wall?

My horrible neighbours moved out.

My mental health has sky rocketed. I don’t dread being/coming home anymore. I’m not wasting my days away dealing with the “executive dysfunction”. I don’t have anticipatory anxiety and stress.

I’m actually enjoying my life again. I’m sleeping better, I’m able to actually go for naps, I’m once more playing video games for enjoyment rather than to block shit out, and arguably the best part?

I’ve been writing.

And funnily enough, I’m not even doing the fun part of writing. I’m editing, and I’m fucking enjoying it.

The Deets

My main WIP right now is the third book in the Emergent series. It was largely done being written, but 1) needed heavy editing and 2) needed an actual plot.

It was essentially nearly 400 pages of them just living their life, with perhaps 100 of those pages at the beginning being actual plot.

I struggled for ~four years with this book because for the majority of that time, I had no sounding board. But one glorious morning, my sister and I were playing Fortnite. And we got to talking about this book. And for the next two hours, she was my sounding board. We threw ideas back and forth as we fought to get dubs.

My head was doing that awesome thing where it’s basically buzzing from nearly bursting at the seams, so full of ideas and possibilities. I was giddy.

For the first time in 3+ years, I felt normal again. I felt like me again.

And guess what? We figured out the plot.

I had already been working on editing Emergent 3 since a few days prior, and since then I’ve continued, finally having a direction and purpose.

There’s still a lot of work left to do with it, so I’m not even going to bother mentioning when I hope to get it done by.

Now…

The 2026 Book Fair

I have been absolutely waffling regarding the book fair that’s in a few months. I can genuinely count the number of readers I have on one hand. That’s not hyperbole, that’s the truth. And to be quite frank, spending nearly a thousand dollars on a book fair that might, might net me a few sales, just seems like a stupid decision.

This is especially the case when my kitto needed more vet care (this happened last year and was the reason why I couldn’t afford to pay the registration fee for the 2025 book fair). He is my absolute priority in my life, and therefore I will be prioritizing replenishing my vet fund before ordering any more stuff for the book fair. And considering we’re only ~3 months away from the fair, I honestly don’t know if I will have enough time to get the rest of the stuff.

I have seven books to buy copies of, plus extra stuff like banners and such. As of right now? I only have copies for two and a few decorations for the tables.

And I’m not even sure if he’s done at the vet. There’s a decent chance he will need to go back in soon. He had a small wound on his gum line, and according to his dental records, there was a tooth there at his last cleaning. So it either fell out, or it broke off or is reabsorbing. If it’s either of the latter two, it’s gotta go. That’ll likely be another $500+.

That all being said, I’m not deciding just yet. The book fair is in September, so I will play things by ear until sometime in August. If I can somehow make it work, sweet. If I can’t, well, that’s the way it is. My baby boy takes precedence.

An Online Hiatus

Social media has been an absolute drain on my mental health the past, well, forever really. I’ve been on another hiatus from it the past couple of weeks, and once again, I feel great.

Ten years ago, I got more sales just by talking to people and making authorly friends than I ever have these days despite trying everything under the sun. No matter what I try, it ends up in crickets. And people can only hear the same sound for some time before they start going crazy.

And I was going crazy. I was burnt out.

What pushed me over the edge was seeing a post on Threads from another author who said she had something like five Instagram accounts, two TikToks, two YouTubes, and posts twice a day on all of them.

Something popped into my head after seeing that.

“This is not a race I want to be a part of.”

If all of that is what it takes to succeed as an author in this day and age, no thank you. I’m not interested. I have zero interest in withering away behind multitudes of accounts hoping people will give a shit. I was already withering away with the few I had.

If other authors have the strength to chip away at the horrible algorithms that are designed to bury us, more power to them. I don’t.

And the other thing? I couldn’t keep going onto social media seeing everyone else succeed. It was shredding my mental health. Posts of their sales dashboards with hundreds or thousands of dollars. Seeing people post complaints that they’re sad they are “having a bad month”, and yet their “proof” was still more money than I ever make in a month. Seeing people say what works for them and yet I’ve tried everything on every list and get nowhere.

Paid ads, posting reels/TikToks, giveaways, engaging on social media, lifting up and supporting others, posting regularly, etc. I’ve tried it all. Like I said, crickets. Insanity. Burn out.

The hiatus started even before my former neighbours moved out, but even though I’m actually enjoying life again, I’m not changing my decision. I’m writing again, finally writing again, and I won’t let the social media rot darken that light at the end of the tunnel.

I still have all my accounts, I’ve just signed out of most of them. I doubt the hiatus will last forever, so I didn’t want to go hog wild and delete them.

I will also likely be going dark for new publications, as publication days have always been a sore spot for me. Despite trying everything—marketing hype, preorders, posting posting posting—they would fall flat and I’d be left feeling so disheartened at the end of the day.

Writing is fun, and I want it to stay that way now that I finally have it in my grasp again.

That being said, if I do end up going this route, anyone who wants to still receive updates for new publications can choose to click the follow button on my Amazon author profile. Notices of new publications are sent out automatically from there.

To End this Essay

Although it’s always been a life-long dream and goal of mine to make my writing my career, it’s been 12+ years and the progress has been molasses dripping uphill in freezing weather (don’t @ me with this metaphor, idc). Improvements? Yes. Barely discernible? Also yes.

I’m prioritizing the fun of writing now.

At my core, I am a storyteller.

I am the best version of myself when I am telling stories.

Maybe one day people will come share the campfire.

If not, at least prioritizing myself means there will always be an audience of one.