Reflection and Rest by J.D. Peterson

My tank is on empty. I am absolutely out of ideas, although I know the world around me is swirling with inspiration. Ideas flit by like clouds through the summer sky, morphing and dissolving into new
shapes. I jot some ideas down on an cluttered notepad, hoping for cohesion to arrive and knit said concepts together into a tapestry of words.

Social media posts are returning very little results in the way of sales. In these modern days of the world wide web, it is repeatedly pounded into me the importance of keeping a ‘presence’. So I post, take photos and design new posts, and post again. My posts are scattered among political comments and sensational headlines competing for a view. Yet, ‘likes’ and ‘hearts’ are not determining any

improvement in sales, and it feels like a waste of energy. I see many of you have been very successful with your social media platforms. So I persist.

My email inbox is full of online classes, lectures and promotions for the indie writer. “Free online class – How to increase sales…” Of course, the ‘free’ class is a promotion for a paid class promising the juiciest bits of information on a dangled thread – along with a price tag of varying amounts of money, touted as an ‘investment’ in my career. I’ve opted in on a few, along with other ‘twitter’ type promotions, studied the instructions and followed through. The only one getting sales is the seller of said workshops. They seem to have created a thriving business out of our hopes and dreams for gaining a wider audience.                

The quest for reviews continues, especially with Amazon.com, the goal: a better ranking among millions of novels. Although the reviews remain very good, the ratio of readers to those who take a moment to post a review is sadly, small. Goodreads, Net Galley and other outlets result in more positive reviews. Kindle Fire contests and free book giveaways also bear limited results, but maintain the ever important online existence.

The bottom line in the quest for exposure and sales has certainly delivered one end result. I’m exhausted. The focus on marketing, while delivering the required online clout, has distracted me from the creative spark that led me down this path in the first place. Perhaps ‘distracted’ is too gentle a word. The continued focus on marketing has extinguished my creativity. For someone as creative as I am, that’s saying a lot.

Inspiration seems to come from my readers and their excitement over my novels. When sales are low, I begin to wonder why I’m working so hard. No one wants to work for months – or years, in my case, on a story that fails to gain a substantial audience. Local bookstore owners roll their eyes when they hear you are ‘self-published’ and local book clubs are cliquish and dismissive. Well-meaning friends advise a movie, or television series. Their faith and support is much appreciated, but they are clearly naïve in the enormity of getting such focus or attention out of the film industry.

Clearly, I am not alone in this situation. I’ve read many posts from fellow writers asking these same questions. In a world where people insist on having their $4 latte every morning, but aren’t willing to

invest in a book for more than $0.99, it becomes disheartening. It is only the soul begging to express itself that persists on to writing the next page.

Today, I will rest and regroup. Let the dust settle around me into quiet reflection. Tomorrow I will continue on, as I have for many years, living my life as an ultra creative person living in a materialistic world. The story changes, and yet the tale remains the same.

“Once upon a time, there was a writer trying to pay the rent…”