It’s been six years since I started publishing. This is the first year I made a big enough payment that could pay a bill (not a mortgage; it wasn’t that much). That makes me an author.
Cursed Items (no longer in print since it’s part of a collection now) was an ebook short story I published on Sep. 20, 2013. It hits me now that it’s been 6 years since my first time hitting publish.
My first paperback took longer. Unwanted as an ebook was published 2015-04-21. It ended up being my first paperback a bit later. My first published novella. I used Createspace to make my print copies. I was so proud I had a book in my hands with my name on it.
For six years, I have been publishing books. Smashwords has 21 books marked as published right now. Plus, two additional ebooks are archived. It’s a lot. There is a mix between short stories, novellas, and novels.
I have two published novels: The Secret of Pack 413 and The Secret of Preshift.
I have a completed six book series: Leagende.
This year, I made more than any previous year. I had strangers buy my book. It was… Amazing. Friends and family buying my books has been great. At least, my mom supports me. She’s given me the most profit, btw.
Do you know where my income is? Triple digits. I’ve surpassed $100, but I’m no where near a thousand. I’ll be telling the government about my occupation as an author. I’ve hit the mark where I should.
All my pride and skills… I’m still so far away from being able to support myself with this. Yet, I cannot manage any other work. There have been far too many days I’m trapped in bed. I write to keep from going crazy. I cannot agree to going to event until the day of because I know how my body randomly gets. I’ve had to call off work when I had it because my body says so. Being disabled sucks. There is no social safety net. Not really. It’s more a pretend net that cannot save anyone. We only struggle.
Sorry this went from me celebrating my six years of working as Cat Hartliebe to being depressed that over six years writing is still not a valuable skill.
Really, I’m not valuable. I can’t do anything to help anyone. I’m worthless and useless. My dad’s right. I have no value in life. Why am I still here?