I hate not having any self-esteem. I should have released the second book by now, but I’m still… working on it. And by that I mean I’m worried what I do have is shit, and thinking anything I add or change would just make it worse. It’s the reason it took me 2 years to write Larkspur. I just.. can’t. I thought the positive response would help and I could do that “write a book a month” thing and I..
I can type fast. I spend every night thinking about Noctuina and varying characters. I just can’t relax enough to let everything else go and type. I’m too busy thinking about what it means to be a writer, if people will even like anything I do, and am I sure those people who liked it weren’t messing with me? I’m procrastinating about doing the thing I keep saying I love to do!
It’s stupid. I’m shooting myself in the foot, and every day I wait and put it off is another day the wound could start to fester. I’m a nobody. The Internet won’t give a shit about my work if I don’t do something more and give them a reason to notice.