During December I am almost always doing something absurd in regards to my writing.
This year I am working like mad to make 5 (as of last night) more submissions so I will have 50 for the year.
When I took a minute a couple of weeks ago to look at my year long Duotrope stats I had a moment.
I looked at them and yelped (Y’all don’t even know how often this happens) loud enough to scare my partner, HOLY SHIT WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?
I then went and counted the publications I can remember.
I am looking back through the year and realized as I think I mentioned during November, how weird it feels when the rejections aren’t rolling in.
When the fuck did that happen?
What the fuck is going on?
(This is where you picture me walking in circles in my bathroom at home, waving my arms and being confused)
What is this feeling?
This feeling is getting shit done.It is feeling good and confident about what I’m doing.
What else feels good and stuff?
For Black Friday I ordered some books after a few hours of cruising for good deals.
First I got this stack from Betterworldbooks.
I highly recommend Better World for used books. Not only are the prices excellent but they do a lot of good work in the world. The coupon was so good basically one of those books was free.
I also took advantage of a deal from Everyday Genius. My last small indie lit purchase was from um, somewhere else. And theirs was the first coupon I saw so here’s what I got:
I totally forgot that I had bought these and they came on the same day and I squee’d really hard. I was so excited.
I was trying to read the Hunger Games but the style of it is a bit grating to me. Also apparently I’m just not in the mood for it. So instead I’m reading Perv by Jerry Stahl. I thought for sure I’d read that but after a couple of pages I realized I hadn’t read it.
I’m also really looking forward to reading the Simmons book. There is something about the way he writes horror that is really beautiful to me. He’s another one who does child characters I really like.
I made the executive decision that I need to regroup and be serious about saving for a laptop.
The one I’m looking at is about 350$.
I know seems like a small sum but yeah.
I am expecting about a 60$ payment from something I did a while back. I have all together four shawls and about four scarves I plan to put up for sale. If I sell out I will make about 200$. I am hoping that I will have enough for shipping, computer and whatnot by the middle of February.
I per usual feel the need to confess.
I’m very nervous about buying a laptop. What if shit happens? What if the electric bill is more than we anticipate? What if my partner doesn’t get the back pay he’s owed? What if I tear my coat and need a new one? What if..what if…
Because when the what ifs happen after I’ve made a huge ass purchase I have the worst guilt and it fucks up my ability to write because I feel guilty for writing when I don’t get paid or I get paid very little.
This is one of those personal issues I’ve been working on really hard since I got out on my own. Granted, now I am able to buy a coat or a pair of shoes without breaking into tears or panic because I’ve spent money on “non essentials” (as in food, shelter, transportation) but it’s still hard and majorly stressful to me.
Just yesterday I paid for the hosting for my personal blog and had this whole diatribe in my head about why am I still paying for that since I wasn’t one of the fatty bloggers who got a book deal when that was hot, how I still only have about 300 regular readers not counting subscriptions of varying sorts, how I’ve only made about 60 dollars in 7 years from affiliate anything. How I’m blablablabla. It hurts.
It’s a major issue in my life.
I’m trying to get over it especially when it comes to writing related things.
It’s really fucking hard.
I talk about this a lot in my regular blog but should put it here so I stop forgetting.
I am worth the expense.
Yes even if I never make money writing and never am a best seller, if etc etc.
I’m still worth it.
I’m still the kind of person who can create beautiful art.
My stories matter because I write them.
It doesn’t make me a shitty person when I invest in myself.
Fuck what they said.
You need tools to do your real work, you need your real work to do your dayjob so you can pay your rent.
That’s all for now.