Dear All,
First and foremost, if you’re reading this, I want to say a BIG thank you for subscribing to my Substack. It really is appreciated. Recent events have led me to the realization that I am on an island writing wise, career wise, figuratively and literally speaking, I am island living. A castaway from the writing community by many, many thousands of miles. Twitter has been my life line. I’ve been able to meet and make friends with people like YOU and that means a lot to me. Thank you for being there.
I am probably going to remain on Twitter even though I was considering quitting before it started to sink into the internet abyss. I find Twitter brings out the worst in me… Not the best place for someone like myself, i think.
Anyway, I am going to treat this substack as a personal letter to a friend. It isn’t going to be pretty or fancy. It’s going to be basic and rambling… But, wait, It is going to be honest and from the heart. So there is that. Lol
If you ever feel like replying feel free to email me or DM me. I would like that a lot.
Am I Running Out of Time?
Someone (A Big Time Author) told me recently that I would have to work twice as hard to make it as a writer (Commercially) because I can’t make connections IRL. I think they had a point. But it got me thinking about what it is that I really want from this writing game. On The Writing Community Podcast, I was luckily enough to be on recently, they asked me a similar question; “What is success for you?”
I feel as though I have succeeded in everything I wanted. I’ve made great friends, written a couple of poetry chapbooks, a whole bunch of short stories and had three novels published. However, I think, success is a bottomless black hole. You always want more. So what do I want? I guess, I just want to be able to walk into any bookstore in the world and be able to pick my book up from the shelf. I know that’s a big ask. I know. So where to now from here? I think I need to go back to basics. Write a novel and start sending it around to agents. But to be honest, that scares the shit out of me. A lot better writers than me haven’t been able to secure an agent. But I think that is the only way forward for me now. Someone else told me that it is all down to luck. Luck is something I’ve never had. Hell, maybe it’s due.
I don’t know if anyone else feels this way but since I started writing I feel like I am racing against a clock. In competition with myself. Racing. I don’t know why I feel this way, but I feel as though I am running out of time. I can’t explain it. That is the honest reason I have written and tried to do as much as I can in such a short period of time. Started writing again October 2019. Does anyone else feel this way? I feel it in my chest, like a spring wound too tight. I don’t know. For whatever reason I feel like I don’t have enough time.
I am working on redrafts for my newest noir novel which I’m praying will be picked up by my favorite press. If that doesn’t work out, I guess it’ll be time to slow down and go to Plan B, back to basics and trying to find those mythological creatures, The Allusive Agent.
Have two more finished novels sat in stasis currently that I doubt anyone will publish because they are primarily about mental illness.
Away from writing. Yesterday I walked along a river in the rain and took in the Autumn leaves. It was beautiful. Ate Wild Boar Steak and deer. I’m sorry if you are vegetarian, but it was delicious.
I’ll try to attach some pictures here.
I also celebrated the release of The Gone Anthology. Nine months hard work, but it was on my bucket list to do an anthology, so I am really damn proud of it. Was blessed to have so many talented and awesome people involved.
I was on two podcasts: The Blood Brothers Podcast and The Writing Community Podcast which were both great experiences for me. Though, to be honest, I feel like I am a terrible public speaker. You can probably tell I’ve taken one too many punches to the head haha.
Currently Listening to: Smashing Pumpkins Greatest Hits and numerous True Crime podcasts.
Currently Reading: The Phantom Killer by James Presley
If you have read the Substack to this point I am extremely grateful. THANK YOU. And even if I haven’t contacted you recently on Twitter, please know that I do appreciate you.
Until next time.
All the best,
Steve
Although I’m very much at the beginning of this writing journey these feelings all feel very relatable. That high from the first book being published doesn’t last anywhere near as long as those times I dreamed of it happening. Someone gave me some very useful insight soon after “Writing can sometimes seem like screaming into a void”. I now know that feeling well. Spoiler! That was you. It really helped when I first fell down that hole so thank you. This is what makes me thankful to the “true” writing community. We have each other’s backs and just over a year ago I had none of that. I believe you will reach your goal and we will be there to celebrate it with you. Keep up the great work mate
I share the sentiment. The clock ticking. I've been writing like a woman possessed for the past five years. I should have done it sooner but life interfered, and maybe I wasn't ready... anyway... the slow pace of the publishing world is a constant irritation. But each publication is a victory. So yes, let's get that elusive agent - E. Lou Sivagent esquire! I have them on speed dial, same as you.