The other night I’m sitting here thinking of what to do about this mess. The neighbors moved out- so the building is quiet, aside from a certain kitty making a ruckus. It’s difficult to think when she’s yowling.
Of course that’s not the current in a long list of complications I’ve had to content with over the years. It’s been a battle. There has been pressure to do one thing or another with my work, to have characters be of a certain concept or another, and then finally someone new told me something profound and empowering:
“If I succumb to the peer pressure about my book then the book is no longer mine.”
This has dealt with those individuals like a shield. And it was on to the next battle- the push with social media. I get it- having a platform is now a priority for anyone looking to be published. One of the major problems I have with this is making time for the actual writing. I’m not trying to be a pill here, think of it as a dose of common sense.
If time is spent working on the social media platform- the blogging, twitter, website, etc- where does a writer find the time to write? I don’t know about anyone else but it just doesn’t make sense- in my wheel house. If I can’t write then I can’t produce a novel. And if there’s no novel then all of that social media platform stuff is pointless.