It’s like dying as literary death.
The silence is deafening.
It seems, after a lot of trial and error, trying this that and the other, I’ve discovered that you only get out of social media what you put into it.
And it means that unless you are on it 24 hours a day, every day, spruiking, or whatever it is we writers are supposed to do promoting ourselves and our work, nothing happens.
Don’t get me wrong, there are those who are raging successes, and I am happy for them.
But for us living on the fringe, and there is quite a lot of us, trying valiantly to reach the public eyes, the battle is just that, a battle.
When do you get time to write?
Is it a choice between writing, or trying to garner support and a following?
The authors who are published by the large publishers will tell you that it is the only way to become an author, where all of the marketing is done by the publisher and all they have to do is put in an appearance and pocket the royalties.
I don’t think that’s necessarily true.
But when I find that happy medium between marketing and writing, I’ll let you know.
Until then, I guess there will be more days like today, and that battle going on in your head that is telling you to give up, it’s never going to get any better.
But give up? Not today, nor tomorrow.
After all, we live in a world where anything is possible.