Well, I fooled myself. I thought there was one more chapter to The Space between Atoms, but I was wrong. All 67 chapters have now been posted. Now I wait.
I have a YouTube channel in my real name. It has only a handful of videos on it, but the other day one got a comment. I happened to glance at the stats and saw it’d been viewed 80 times. I haven’t had time to add any videos over the past two or three years.
The point is, even while I’ve been doing other things, some people have been finding what I’ve already done. Perhaps that’s how one gets recognition?
There comes a time when three years can pass without anyone noticing. Except the reaper. I started publishing fiction in my late forties. That was about a decade ago. I’m still waiting to get my first novel published. I’ve written seven.
I’ve started on a new novel but I’m reminded of just how much work they entail. Not that I shy away from work, but sometimes I wonder how much time I’ve got left.
Sorry to sound gloomy. It comes with being a horror writer, I suppose.
Over the past year I finished about six more stories and I’m trying to find the time to send them out. Nonfiction has been eating up that time because, well, I can get nonfiction published. I actually have people asking me to write it.
It seems funny to me that you can get fairly easily published in nonfiction venues, but agents and editors don’t believe in your ability. How many more years of prolificacy until someone notices, if ever? I will write anyway.
My true love has always been fiction. The Space between Atoms was, as all stories are, slightly autobiographical. Writers who claim otherwise have some problems with facing the truth. Our stories are ourselves.
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