Whining and Depressed

It’s getting harder and harder to stay motivated to write.  I sure could use a sale or something to keep me going.  Right now it feels like I’m shouting into the wind.  And everything I’ve been writing has the emotional depth of a piece of toast.

I’ve also had trouble concentrating on anything lately.  Maybe it’s because there’s too much Internet to distract myself.  Instead of reading, I find myself wanting to play Candy Crush Saga instead.  It also doesn’t help it’s so damn hot.  I can’t stand being hot, and I don’t know why a state like Minnesota is getting ninety degree temperatures all month.

Not much holds interest for me these days.  I don’t want to play video games as much even (I’m playing Doom 3, which is like the most depthless game I’ve played in a long time.  The shotgun, the icon of Doom, feels impotent because enemies don’t react when you shoot them.  Blast double-barrels up an imp’s nose, and he won’t twitch.  Every corridor is exactly the same.)

Everything in the game looks like this.  No other colors.

Writing doesn’t feel as fun or exciting as it used to for me.  When I was little, writing Mortal Kombat and things like that, it felt exciting.  It didn’t feel tedious.  It didn’t feel futile.

When I wrote Black Hole Son, my first non-fan-fiction I intended to try and sell, it was a place I wanted to be.  I remember sitting at my desktop, listening to drone music (to fill the mood with cyberspacy-type ambience) watching the words become a story that people would want to read.  A world I wanted to live in.  Not something that gets posted to AOL message boards and shoved down the next day for Malon x Saria fan art.

Now everything feels so much bigger.  There are so many writers out there, so many books, so much better prose than what I churn out, it feels like “what’s the point?”  I feel like such a small fish in such a big pond.  With fish that have much cooler fins, sharper teeth, that I’ll never evolve to have.  Plus they all have the charsima and experience that I can’t copy.  They know how to promote, how to shill.  I’m still figuring out how review copies work, and scratching my head with who to send them to.  Makes me wonder how anyone can start in this business without connections.

Maybe I should just quit writing and post pictures of pretty girls.

Eric Juneau is a software engineer and novelist on his lunch breaks. In 2016, his first novel, Merm-8, was published by eTreasures. He lives in, was born in, and refuses to leave, Minnesota. You can find him talking about movies, video games, and Disney princesses at where he details his journey to become a capital A Author.

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