The Hard Part

If only I were two people.

One of me would do all the plotting, writing, editing, rewriting, coming up with new ideas, putting it all in a readable story format.

The other would do all the marketing.

Because goshdarnit, that marketing thing can be a royal pain in the glutes.

It's not that it's so much more work, really. It's just a lot less fun. When I'm writing I can get lost in the story and the flow of the plot and my growing sympathy with the characters. When I'm marketing I have to keep kicking myself, goading myself, telling myself this is NECESSARY AND MUST BE DONE. It's not something with a flow to which I can lose myself. It's a world of hurdles, of new lessons learned, of trial and error and error.

And yes, I said error twice.

That's why dividing the work load between two of me would be nice. The part of me that does all the writing could just work away unimpeded and unflustered by the marketing aspect, letting the other part slave and grumble and puzzle and push.

I saw a Twitter update not long ago that said aspiring writers probably would be better off getting degrees in marketing rather than English or journalism. I suspect that's accurate. It's easier (in my opinion) to teach oneself how to write than to dive headfirst into the marketing world and tread water while hoping the magnum opus you're using as a floatation device doesn't give out.

Thank God for kind folks out there who've been down this road and are willing to show a new guy some of the ropes. If one good thing comes out of my marketing dabblings, I'll have met some great people.

Onward and upward!

Motivational Hatred

I don't like complainers. I really don't. Well, let me rephrase that: I hate the complaining, not the complainer.

Nevertheless, today I'm gonna complain: Just a TINY bit. So bear with me. There's a point, I promise.

I get up well before the sun every day, including weekends -- which isn't so bad until winter rolls around. Even then it isn't much to grumble over until I have to bundle up, scrape frost off the windshield, let the car warm up, and deal with winter the rest of the day.

Then it's an issue.

I passionately hate winter. Yes, I know I live in Wisconsin, where it's winter four to six months out of the year and should be an accepted part of my life -- but I hate it.

(Don't go! The whining is over. I promise.)

This motivates me. I utilize my dislike for arctic weather to get my rear in gear and write. A lot. If I can just get enough income from my writing endeavors so I can flip off the rat race, stay home, and compose endlessly, I will be a happy man. Winter can bring its worst. I'll just stock up in October and hibernate til April.

So my hatred is a useful hatred... a motivator. I want to make money in such a fashion that letting the car warm up only happens when I actually WANT to go somewhere. I could laugh at icy roads. Going to work in December would consist of donning a comfy robe and slippers, making a mug of hot chocolate, wearing headphones playing inspiring music, and getting to work on the latest literary endeavor.

I would finally agree with the lunatic who wrote "Let It Snow".

And I could dislike complaining without being hypocritical. I think everyone would like that.