Pretty much everything about writing is depressing. Publishing success doesn’t assure a happy life. Creative artists of all sorts are subject to this problem. The reason I’m affected this way isn’t too hard to understand. I spent over a year of my life writing a book. I have no idea if anyone but me thinks it’s any good. Mrs. Lion likes it, but she is strongly biased. I’ve sent out lots of letters to agents asking them to represent me. So far, no takers.
Yesterday I sent out about 40 requests for representation. All I can do now is wait. That’s not completely true. I’m continuing to find more agents to query. The only alternative is to self-publish. That is the route a lot of chastity and BDSM authors follow. FYI, my book is mainstream fiction. Self publishing is easy to do, thanks to Amazon. Selling self-published books is super tough and expensive. I don’t want to do that.
That’s enough whining for now. I just wanted to explain why my interest in sex isn’t very high right now. I’m feeling pretty low about writing. I think my next step is to start another book. Sexually, I’m happy that Mrs. Lion is willing to keep trying with me. Who knows? Maybe I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself and get turned on again.
Meanwhile, I’m doing what I can to succeed in writing. My odds of success are horrid, but I’ve beaten the odds before. Thanks for sticking with me.
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