one identity crisis at a time, baby

I paid real money to kick ads off my blog, you’d think I’d use it more.

Ah, well. I pay real money to taxes, too, so the blog is by far *not* my most devastating financial move.

Not to mention I can’t seem to write for shit lately, but! More on that a little ways down.

Lucky thing, Book 2 was originally signed, sealed, delivered two years ago, so I didn’t have to write it before its re-release, just touch it up. And at last at last at last, How to Survive a Teen Sex Comedy is about to be back on the market.

(I guess it hasn’t been long enough to necessitate that many “at last’s,” but I don’t do well in interims; I just want to be done with stuff that’s already done.)

The release date, preorder info, and the book itself will be dropping over the next couple of weeks. Like I said, it’s already done, it’s been done, and I’m ready to share it again, nevermind marketing strategy. It’s hard enough lately to care about the things I actually care about, let alone some bullshit like marketing strategy.

I’ve been having fun prepping and making promos (with Canva’s store of non-AI elements* because I’m not a fuckin’ loser, thanks)—and we’ll see how long I can ride that high before the tide of self-doubt and uncomfortable resentments I don’t know how to talk about rises once again.

[*If you press down on an image, graphic, etc., Canva will tell you where it came from/if it’s AI. Lifesaver, honestly.]

Much like What’s Your Vibe?, I’m relieved to get TSC back out there. My real concern lies with Book 3, because I’ve been seriously down on motivation purpose inspiration and eureka! moments.

Which, y’know, look around at the state of the world—particularly as it’s presented in the doomscroll algorithm—and it’s no small wonder so many creatives (and people in general) are wilting. So I know that’s part of my problem, just as surely as I know it’s not the only part.

I’ve had a couple of feel-good finds recently: WYV and some really affirming comments about it were included in Skye Kilaen’s queer romance July newsletter (which I would have realized sooner if I’d keep up with my emails), and featured on Des DeVivo’s book rec round-up for Ace Awareness Week. We’ll call it serendipitous timing that I discovered both mentions in the same week, because my struggle with perceived support has been at an all-time high.

I say perceived support because, truth is, I don’t know what people think or who’s on my side or whether they’re just placating me or if anyone cares. I don’t even know who’s actually reading my books.

And, hey, if you’re not gonna be loud about it, I don’t know what good that support does when I can’t feel it. Silent cheerleading is nice enough in theory, but what can I do with that?

(^ This is more in regards to people I know IRL. Readers who find me online, whether out-loud or silent supporters, don’t test my trust issues or make me obsessively wonder after our relationship dynamic.)

Meanwhile…

I’m tired of seeing people use and champion generative AI, listening to its music and producing flyers they could have made themselves, AI books outselling real ones—and then it’s crickets for your creative friends who are trying to build something, who are honestly Doing The Work to get there. You’re supporting theft and leaving the people you say you care about on read. I’ve been down this road before, but I keep coming back to it out of sheer frustration, and those aforementioned uncomfortable resentments.

I’m also tired of hearing about the same BookTok reads, and these absolutely fuckass authors who don’t do their jobs well, and/or have a laundry list of other issues. I thought we all learned our lesson re: the latter with J.K. Rowling, but some of y’all are still supporting her, too, so hell if I know anything anymore. This is another road I’ve been down (and that link doesn’t even cover a full sampler platter of the issues).

I continue to be tired of being judged based on how people think the industry operates, when I’ve worked across various media and publishing platforms for twelve-plus years and know how it operates.

Bottom line? Whether or not you have a traditional publishing deal is no reflection on how good you are. It’s about how marketable they think you are.

And it’s like… Look, good writing, meaningful writing, thought-provoking eye-opening perspective-shifting life-changing writing is kinda disparate from trendy writing. It can be all of the above, but it’s not determined by aesthetic BookToks and sprayed edges and, no, not even bestseller lists or screen deals.

And yet…

I received more support and enthusiasm when I had a trad pub contract, as if that external marker of success made it safe, less embarrassing, more appropriate for people to show up for me. Like it turned me into someone it was Okay to support, because someone else said so.

It nagged at me, but I let it go. Why complain when I got what I wanted, right?

Turns out it’s not what I wanted.

I decided to opt out of my contract—because I wanted to maintain creative control, I didn’t want to compromise what or how I write, I didn’t want to be considered too risky/not trendy or marketable enough, I didn’t want to feel that pressure when I don’t even like the things that make you trendy and marketable—and while doing this solo makes me actually want to do it, I need that support way more now than I did when I had a publisher at my back.

And it’s just. Really fucking hard to write when you feel like this.

I’m exhausted. Kind of disillusioned. Disheartened. Disappointed down to my bones that so many of my relationships aren’t what I thought. Tired of having my feelings hurt and then feeling stupid and childish for having those feelings in the first place.

I’m trying to remember that I’m doing this because I want to, that it’s for me. But sometimes (a lot of times), doing it for me doesn’t feel like enough. And that’s a broken record I keep on trying to spin, keep on trying to find a way to fix.

Seeing What’s Your Vibe? on two rec lists made such a world of difference. It made me feel like I’m actually getting somewhere—like I’m doing something that matters. It loosened that knot in my chest that makes it hard to talk about my writing, because I’ve been made to feel like an embarrassment, a failure, a joke that’s not even funny because it’s just so try-hard pathetic.

(Yes, I will be taking this to therapy, whatever.)

That’s why I can’t discount the importance of social media likes and shares and reposts, it’s why I keep stressing how much word-of-mouth matters: Engaging with our books and posts provides us with more opportunities, connects us with more readers, shows us that someone cares and we’re not just talking to ourselves.

Or, at least, it shows us that if we keep talking to ourselves, sooner or later the right people are going to overhear.

All in all, I’m in a funky headspace lately, and doing my best to sort through that so I can focus on my next project. I’m not sure I’m going to come to any fix-it conclusions, and certainly I won’t get any closure, but if I could just… repress all this until I get Book 3 done…

Well, then I could get Book 3 done, and at this point that’s the most I can ask for.

Stay tuned for How to Survive a Teen Sex Comedy’s re-release, Book 3’s WIP journey, and whatever emotional cliff I Bella Swan-dive off next.