I will no longer pursue landing an agent. I no longer have hopes and dreams of a traditional publishing deal. I’m not even sure I’ll do much more writing, despite having many projects in various stages of completion.
There comes a time when, if your work is not valued, there seems to be little to no reason to continue. If I had the drive… I used to, but I don’t any more. I don’t feel compelled to write, and I think good writers should feel that way. They should have to write. They should be unable to stop themselves from writing. And they should do it for themselves rather than for readers. I know that we’re told to consider our audience, write what they want to read, but I honestly believe it’s better to write the thing you want to write. That will be the thing that is genuine and has power. Readers can feel it, and they respond to it.
I’ve had a lot of good feedback from agents who tell me that I’m a great writer. Unfortunately for me, I don’t write the kinds of things these agents can sell. I’ve heard many variations on, “Try me with something else.” But all my somethings else are equally unsalable.
In turn, I’ve found modest success in self-published work, but it’s very difficult to rise above the noise. There’s just so much out there, and I’m a bit exhausted with it all. Again, if I had really strong feelings about my work—if I felt I had to write or die—then it wouldn’t matter. I’d write regardless. And I used to feel that way. But something has changed. I just don’t know what.
I will try to finish Hamlette, which I’m posting on Wattpad (see the post below this one). And maybe I’ll get back to various other projects too… someday… But for now I’m calling it quits. I can’t seem to please anyone with my work, not even myself, and that seems like a good reason to pump the brakes.