I started this blog back in 2016. It was meant to be a place I can chatter into the void while offering my readers something interesting. As well as a website to show off my published work.
I do not have a great website.
I suck at everything.
That’s okay. It doesn’t matter.
This is actually my 701st post. In four plus years I’ve written a lot on here.
Not just on here. I have made massive improvement on my stories. I have so many more completed first drafts than not completed and plotted drafts. I’ve figured out how to edit.
It’s not that I didn’t know how to edit from schooling. I learned the fastest and efficient ways for me to edit. And the fact seven drafts is bare minimum, although I may not mark 4-7 differently. They may all hold the title of 4th draft simply because the read throughs don’t do as much. They’re aren’t as noticeable. I’m fixing individual errors not large collections of text. The scenes are set. The order is made.
The first, second, and third drafts really change. Unless you know how to see it and what it should be, you won’t see the story. By fourth, the big stuff is done.
The fourth draft is what you show others. It starts looking comparable to what’s on the market. But it’s comparable to a three star. It’s okay. It’s not great.
The last three rounds are to make it great.
Many first timers will publish the fourth draft. They’ll leave the errors. They can easily see the story. I can too, but it’s bogged down by mess.
It’s like walking into someone’s house and seeing the bare bones. Plenty can. Most don’t.
Fourth draft is what a difficult professor would give an A. Fourth draft has a level of quality.
It is not close enough to perfect.
I have now written more than 700 posts on this blog. That’s excluding all the random posts I made on random sites over the years. Some are still findable if you can look for it. Most require you to guess what handle I used. Cat Hartliebe only came into being when I hit publish the first time.
So much has changed.
So much has stayed the same. My numbers are the same as when I started. Zero.
Zero interest. Zero books sales. Zero people caring.
But I feel better about myself. I’m showing off the world who I am. Sometimes it’s warped, but mostly it’s front facing open conversation.
I need to remember the number of book sales only says whether I can live by writing (I can’t).
The number of people looking at my blog… Means nothing.
The lack of comments means no one is reading me.
Which sounds about right.
How to kill a writer:
Don’t read anything they write.
We can’t live without readers.
Ignoring the depressive spiral… I wonder what value this blog would offer anyone? Am I offering anyone help?
Or is this all me? Only for me. Only to get my thoughts out.
Why can’t I help people?