Most Books Don’t Sell

– Most Books Don’t Sell | Hugh Howey.

a really great post.

beyond the slightly technical talk about publishing (I’ve never tried allowing myself to think about the P word much, if at all. but undeniably, that is a dream word for anyone who enjoys writing), the whole post sets me dreaming of greater courage, added faith, increase in boldness with regards to my dream of writing.

it was my number one dream since young; a FT author. Yet it’s also one that was easily abandoned too many times. Nevertheless, it always keeps coming back; I always see some flicker of a hope, no matter how quickly its extinguished, reignited just as easily by plenty of things. It lures me like a temptation almost. I say this because, (& its my whole point of this post,) dreaming like this just keeps feeling wrong. It really isn’t of course. Yet I can’t help questioning, whether I really really really have the right to dream of this exclusive possibility.

no matter the many other dreams i have, writing is always found to be still a part of each of them.

  • i dream of being an architect – who writes all sorts of things; from theories to ideas (to even work woes…),
  • i dream of being a shop owner (a all-in-one bookstore/ bakery/ studio/ ice-cream shop) – who writes sideline while tending the shop,
  • i dream of being a traveller – who writes her explorative & learning journey (or think travel journalist),
  • i dream of being a children art educator/ teacher – who still thinks & writes on pedagogy,
  • i dream of being in the theatres – who writes anything that should be written,
  • i dream of being a theologian – or rather, one who writes anything to glorify God,
  • i dream of being a mother – who writes her love for her children regularly,
  • i dream of being a combination of all the above, & found one beautiful word to describe it – writer.

Basically, I have resolved to write this life away. It’s my best way of expression. Without writing regularly, I feel really lost & disorganised & unprepared & lousy. (pardon my crudeness, but i guess its like shitting? i won’t die like if i don’t breathe, yet i’ll be a terribly cross person. unable to write when i should, like constipation, really do sucks.)

Back to the point of the link – it is intimidating to think about materialising one’s thoughts & ideas & opinions into a physical thing; a book you can actually loudly proclaim you penned.

I realised, as with the direction of Mr Hugh Howey’s article (especially all those areas with bolded words), that if I keep allowing myself to look around me & feel inferior to everyone else, I, really, will never go ahead in materialising my dream.

Jeff Goins has always been a great reminder. I was inspired by him many years ago. The disgusting problem with me is, years later I am still not secured enough… to the extent that I don’t even dare to dream too much about it yet.


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