Yesterday I finished my story "A Sailor's Love," it is hard to put into words how I felt as I cannot explain it. The feelings were not relief at the completion of eleven months work or joy at completing a new romantic ghost story, the best way to describe them would be dread at the thought of another disaster and the thought of nothing after this book.
I wish to continue but if this fails to sell, is there a point in continuing? I hold the opinion that writers and film stars share the same cross, if you strike out three times you are forgotten and this is my third strike.
My debut book on Amazon two years ago Pat Canella (The Dockland Murders) is yet to sell, this was followed by the Chronicles of Mark Johnson disaster -- an award winner -- which never sold after the award and now here I stand after eleven months work, wondering if the vagrancies of the reading public will grant me one slight success or doom me to a third strike.
As much as I try to maintain a standard of writing, for what pittance I get through sales I could make more as a street beggar. For the price of a coffee you expect Checkov or Pushkin. Eleven months work for $3, that is all I ask. Would you work for such low wages? And yet you expect me to.
Each day I ask myself, why bother? Nobody cares. My good friend and editor, Julia, keeps telling me am I a great story-teller and yet the lack of sales show your disregard for my work.
Honestly, I am at the end of my tether as I have tried most genres, including erotica and zombies and nothing has sold. I don't know where to go or what to write as nobody bought anything I wrote last year.
I have many story ideas but is there any point in continuing if nobody is interested in them?