However, armed with my laptop, I communicate this news from the hospital. I should also be able to get some typing work on a novel or other writing project moving along while staying here, even while missing that rental house I had to move into last month that still doesn't yet feel like home. I hope this crisis and the potential financial setbacks it incurs upon my meager assets and immediate limited earning potential will not become the personal economic armageddon that I cannot forget about while placing trust in God to see me through the hard time.
Greetings, fans and others reading this commentary. As I may have mentioned before, I've suffered a setback in my foot ulcer's reccovery almost a month ago when the wound somehow became infected, developing a second open area near the first wound (connected to it through the foot) that was oozing and bleeding. Today, I underwent surgery to discover how serious results from an X-ray of the wound proved to be. Apparently there is a bone infection requiring antibiotics, but I don't know yet how serious the infection actually is (this will determine whether I will be given oral or IV antibiotics for the next six weeks once discharged) and now suspect any return to work will take longer than the mere two weeks I previously assumed.
However, armed with my laptop, I communicate this news from the hospital. I should also be able to get some typing work on a novel or other writing project moving along while staying here, even while missing that rental house I had to move into last month that still doesn't yet feel like home. I hope this crisis and the potential financial setbacks it incurs upon my meager assets and immediate limited earning potential will not become the personal economic armageddon that I cannot forget about while placing trust in God to see me through the hard time.
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I had hoped to redesign the front and back cover for Sister Helena of the Sword this week with some time off from work to rest my injured foot. But this hospital visit later in the week will make that delayed. Maybe I can create the vision for my cover different from the original concept in mind and actually realize it despite my poor drawing ability. I cannot afford a professional cover service in the $300-400 range and one lower cost alternative was unavailable to do the work. I just wish I'd had serious artistic drawing talent from a young age, but then maybe I'd have never become an author (even one no reader seems to want to read lately).
I learned today there might be a bone infection in my right foot's ulcer and I'll need IV antibiotics and some minor surgery based on the X-ray from yesterday. I'm going into St. Mary's hospital in Huntington, WV on Thursday afternoon and have the surgery Friday, but don't know how long I'll be in for this health problem. This just seems to be the lowest point in a horrible year, getting the ulcer and being stuck with it almost nine months due to neglecting my diabetes condition until July, losing my home as I have mentioned before and having two different menial jobs I'm unsuited for physically in terms of lacking stamina.
The writing still goes nowhere in terms of four different publications taking their time responding to my short story submissions. Some won't respond until October or November, but some of them should've responded by now. This is sheer torture for me. I've started another novel manuscript, but don't know how much I'll get typed in the next few days. I don't even know if the hospital has wi-fi for patients with laptops. If not, I could still lay in bed and type on the book (if reading any paperbacks I take with me or TV are unappealing with all that spare time). The last six years have been downhill generally, despite any small steps of professional progress as an author - the successes are nice but dwarfed by every setback in life I suffer. 2012 cannot end soon enough for my taste. That's assuming anyone ever reads these posts, of course. I'm now into my fourth week of exile to a new rental property after losing my childhood home to a couple who seemed like the best option aside from bankruptcy and the county selling off my house for unpaid real estate taxes. Of course, these new landlords kept changing the terms of my deal with them from November 2011. First, the real estate taxes were too burdensome on the property, so in mid-March I started getting encouragement to move on elsewhere when I'd hoped to be able to remain in my childhood home for at least one year to stabilize my life and possibly get the house back with a mortgage (probably unrealistic given my horrible credit rating over several years of not using credit cards and going into debt). Then after I quit my last soul-crushing job as a building cleaner when I couldn't satisfy my employer in terms of cleaning everything as thoroughly as they expected, I was shoved even harder to leave within a few months. By summer it became an ultimatum against which I was powerless and had no legal protection in my favor having taken a bad deal foolishly. Then in early August I was told I had to be out by the end of September, until a week or so later when I was told to get out by the end of August no ifs ands or buts. Fortunately I found a one-story small house for $75 more per month than I'd been paying to live in what had once been my own house. I hope my departed parents can forgive me for losing their home, one that my father had to struggle to keep from losing during hard times in 1959-60 and 1970-72. Never trust people giving you a raw deal but then acting like they're your friends while twisting the knife deeper into one's back. This was a painful lesson. No future kindness from those persons will EVER make up for taking something I had lived in for 44 years and close to 4 months. I don't expect to ever get my old home back (unless becoming famous somehow and having the State of Ohio take it through Eminent Domain as a historical landmark accordingly - even though I despise the practice of Eminent Domain in general) and feel like an exile shipped off to Patmos like the Apostle John or St. Helena like Napoleon Bonaparte. I have seen the abominable changes made to the interior already (the lady responsible saying prospective buyers hated my loud wall color choices from 2007-08 repaintings - but probably expressing mainly her own opinion) and some needed external touches I'd neglected to deal with for years. I don't care if it ever sells (even though there's a reason the lack of such an event might hurt me financially - I'll say no more about that). I wish I'd have moved further from that house than 40 blocks east within the same small town I loathe in some ways by hating the big shot players of life's local games - the sort of people who never admit to wrongdoing against anyone they consider their inferiors (I can think of a certain clique I knew in high school that fit this description and can still curse them all while loving them as enemies the way Jesus Christ insisted).
My writing career has stalled in some ways with self-published book covers needing revamping from the juvenile artwork of pen and colored pencils that probably turn off more people about wanting to ever read the stories therein. I also made the dreadful mistake of giving away copies of one book that needed serious corrections to some problems I missed in proofreading it before going to press, and a second book giveaway of a subject (superheroes) no one wants to read about except in comic books and graphic novels. I may have a horror novel coming out from Dark Moon Press next spring but am awaiting a final contract for signing and returning. At least its cover will look far better than the crap ones I designed myself (all four of which can be seen elsewhere on this site). I may seek out professional artistic help for Sister Helena of the Sword and get a new cover made by some third party while I can still afford it before releasing any Kindle version at Amazon.com. My short fiction output has dropped from 45 new tales last year to 2 so far this year (better than my 2009 record of 0 - the worst year since I started writing such works in 1999-2000). Add to that my learning I might have a mental disorder that would explain so much I've noticed over the years wrong with my odd behavior patterns, social awkwardness and constant physical clumsiness, and this year has been the worst ever experienced for me so far. I also have another soul-crushing job in building cleaning once more - part time at the moment but soon to become full time (then I'll really want to scream). The life-long problem I've had with physical labor is lacking any great stamina under such a yoke, be it just mowing the grass as a teenager or young adult, doing any heavy lifting (with a spinal birth defect that makes that a bad idea and requiring occasional chiropractor visits over the years), and now even janitorial work for a few hours. I get exhausted too soon in such a routine and never get used to it. I don't know if Asperger's Syndrome (I've yet to be formally diagnosed with it and once that stigma is attached to my medical records every government tyrant can invade my privacy and use the diagnosis against me someday) is grounds for mental disability assistance since I seem somewhat able to function in everyday life, just not exactly like a normal person. I've come to realize all my past failures, especially with women, can be traced to this bizarre adult autism-like condition that was never caught by any examination during my formative years - but if it had the therapeutic culture probably would've forced me to take Ritalin or some other poison that turns young minds to wasted zombie-like conditions so they're no trouble to anyone ever again. Every time I lost a woman I wanted to date to some other man, I now realized I never had even a fair chance to win some female's heart being socially awkward and considered weird. In a world where asshole players always win in the dating game, I was a BORN LOSER right from the start. The only way I'll ever get a woman in my life is if she takes the initiative out of interest in me, and I'll probably have to be a successful writer before that ever happens. She will have to be someone I could get along with while suffering my disability and have enough in common with her for us to stay together a lifetime. I know, fat chance of that ever happening in whatever remains of my declining years where I'll be seen as an even bigger loser than now (ripe for exploitation by unscrupulous women). That's right, I have so much going well for me right now, I just want to die. Some complaints have come to my attention from well-meaning sorts about the underlying problems and shortcomings I'm apparently afflicted with, and the only conclusion I can reach is I'm apparently crazy, insane in the membrane, certifiable but not yet formally diagnosed, etc.
I guess this writing career is one manifested symptom of something I've heard about in recent years but never knew I might have until recently (no formal diagnosis from the sainted high priests of the modern Therapeutic Culture has been yet made, but give them time - they will, followed by institutionalization for life I suspect). I recall some mentions in Kindergarden on a report card about "does not work or play well with others." With some minor exceptions in certain activities, that is probably correct. Apparently my comments about women here are FRIGHTENING to the average woman (or so one told me I've known for many years) - tough. Get over yourselves, gals. I know no woman in her right mind is interested in me and things I say (or possibly do) will scare them away in the future. I don't care anymore because obviously all that rot I hear about how God wants the best for us in life on Earth doesn't include any soulmate for this writer - ever. I'm meant to toil in lowest common denominator, labor intensive jobs for the rest of my unnatural life, never becoming more than my parents or ancestors or doing something unique and wonderful in my time here. Some readers like the details I layer into my fiction work while others do not. My cover artwork apparently sucks - but I've known since age 13 I'm no artist. Unfortunately I've done the best I can (please insert inappropriate laughter at this point) and I don't know any talented sketchers who can give my book covers the treatment they deserve to catch the average reader's eye looking for some fantasy story. I have a vision and cannot realize it sitting here alone. Obviously my career ambitions need help if they are ever to prosper, but I don't know where or how to get that help without the invisible Hand of God providing what seems to the world as dumb luck in finding the answer. I now sit in a rental house (it's nice for one person, apart from lacking only a shower capability to the bathtub and no central air-conditioning) a few miles from the home I grew up in, lived inside 44 years and almost 4 months, and could not maintain as an adult orphan for the last six years. Some might say I deserved to lose it. I think I should've moved away 20 years ago, but it's too late to change the past and unfortunately impossible. Unless some unexpected positive change from an outside event or circumstance acting upon my life occurs (and soon), I am again losing the will to live in these depressing circumstances. I cannot pretend to be happy when miserable inside. In past months, the only women who showed any interest in me were either undesirable (based on my standards) or some sort of scam artist (pretending to be madly in love - some of those in fact men pretending to be women). Now if I could just turn this rage and frustration into a standup rant act as part Dennis Miller style intellectualism and a hint of Rodney Dangerfield, that would be a life-changing event. But who would pay to watch my stream of consciousness monologue about politics, cultural matters, etc.? No one, that's who. After a rapid weekend of moving everything I owned from a seven-room one-story ranch house I've lived in for my entire life to a four-room rental house with far too little storage space compared to the house I lost through bad circumstances, I must now face the daily grind of a day job that has too long a commute (with the gas prices at this writing approaching four dollars per gallon this is a serious concern) and only pays $8.50 per hour. It seems 2/3 of my day now is work or sleep - the free time too fleeting - and I need time more than money right now (that will change) to get settled into this new quarters.
The writing is now at a standstill effectively, waiting for some word from six different magazines or anthologies between now and late October and two book publishers (Dark Moon Press and Ace Books) about submitted manuscripts or writing samples. They all keep me waiting and my patience is NOT infinite. In the end, based on the usual odds, i will most likely be rejected - especially for any large potentlal writing payday - if the past is any indication. I wish that were not so, and also wish I could relive the past 32 years with my 44-year-old memories intact in the 12-year-old body for avoiding serious personal and professional mistakes. But God is not obliging to allow me such a wonderful second chance in His grand design. I must admit I don't like His plans for my mortal life so far. I don't know if all these changes will overwhelm me, but do know I'm dissatisfied with how things have turned out so far. Tomorrow had best be a better day. Well, I've decided to formally end the latest book giveaway since apparently any superhero theme novel not containing established comic book characters or written by George R. R. Martin is not even wanted for FREE. I also have received no feedback from the half-dozen folks I gave a majority of the ten copies to, leaving me to assume my work must be horrible if the recipients cannot find the time (according to some of them) for reading my 310-page novel. I was also supposed to have two potential interviews by certain recipients, but those offers have also come to nothing so far. I just released my latest novel Sister Helena of the Sword, a little other worlds fantasy I first wrote back in 2005 but never tried selling until a few years later only to be turned down or ignored by every agent contacted and rejected by Leucrota Press (in 2010 but they went out of business the following year), LUNA Books (also in 2010, a fantasy romance imprint of eHarlequin Books), Shade City Press (declined in 2011 after the publisher showed some initial interest, before his company went into eclipse due to some personal problems), Tor Books (rejected in 2011) and Angry Robot Books (in 2012, but was probably not a good fit to their Open Door Month theme of epic fantasy). I have sent the first ten pages to Ace Books recently even though going ahead with self-publishing efforts, figuring if Eragon could go from self-publication to best seller, it would be all right to pursue these parallel endeavors. I can always pull the original CreateSpace edition if Ace wants my novel for their fantasy line.
Due to the novel marketing and revision work, I've had far less time to write short stories (completing only 2 so far versus 45 last year) and have mostly marketed the odd older ones mainly to paying markets (those have been mostly in no hurry to reject or accept my work this year). One rejection was particularly hurtful but not due to the story's quality apparently according to the anthology editor. "Death from the Stars" did not make the cut for Use Enough Gun: Legends of the Monster Hunter III, breaking my streak of appearing in the prior two volumes. Apparently there were not enough future themed monster hunt tales to warrant a section of them, with the book concentrating more on past or present setting tales. It hurt more because I wrote that story specifically for Use Enough Gun, having already written a recent past story and present day story for the first two - and going for a future theme one to create variety to my work. I am still seeking a full time job after quitting my last part time one due to personal dissatisfaction and my employer's partial dissatisfaction with my work. It's getting harder to find anything good, even more so than during my last unemployment phase drawing benefits. I may go bankrupt someday soon, but am being forced to change residences due to some bad decisions and my own fault. If writing was a divinely-inspired calling then it seems God had truly let me down in the creation and sustenance of a flourishing career, certainly making little of it easy. Then again, there might be some turning point from a seed of effort I have made in the recent past that will yield some advancement. I just don't know, with my faith being sorely tested as a financial abyss looms ever closer. Ace Books says they take up to five months responding to queries, but I was able to submit there electronically (thus choosing them over the other Penguin Imprint DAW Books that took 3 or more months but wanted the full physical manuscript and I need to save money on paper and ink right now). I plan to soon begin a second web page here (this one a pro site if I can swing the cost) and call it by a more positive sounding label - "The Many Worlds of John X. Grey." This one would showcase my published novels with the possibility of reselling them from CreateSpace with a possible discount on the cover price directly to anyone buying copies online or directing interested readers to other publishers' web pages where my work appears (i. e. Dark Moon Press if they choose to publish Claws of T'birsk and I cannot resell copies on my page). The only problem looming over any new efforts to promote my work and get it out to the public is the shadow of financial uncertaintly. The Bible claims God will give what is required to those working toward His purposes. I only remain slightly uncertain whether or not writing fiction is my calling to communicate His messages from Scripture and through examples of certain book characters. I admit not all of my books have Christian themes (A Legacy of Blood, Claws of T'birsk, the unpublished A Damsel in Distress saves the Hero and Invasion Bubble of the Eternal War), while others have subtle or more direct ones to the story (Sister Helena of the Sword, The Circle of Light, Worldjumpers, and the unpublished Goram - The First World: The Prophecy of Kolab and The Nightmare of Aarontown). Perhaps God is displeased with either my private behaviors or with my work not being say perhaps inspirational stories for children. I write what I know about and what interests me as a reader, and the latter category does not, or at least I've been given no great inspirational ideas for such stories. I don't know where I'll be living in a month or if I'll even have a dead end job for survival, but perhaps I will write here or on the main page again when having any news to deliver. Until next time, keep reading someone's writing even if not mine. I have clearly miscalculated in terms of any general interest in superhero fiction outside of comic book format. The Circle of Light has not been requested to the same degree as A Legacy of Blood earlier this year. At present I'm preparing another of my novels for self-publication, the other-worlds fantasy adventure Sister Helena of the Sword, but with the failure of my superhero novel, I'm beginning to lose any hope the next book will do any better.
I just don't know how to get my ideas out there into the public consciousness beyond a few friends and other acquanitances Well, tomorrow will make two weeks since I started this current book giveaway. Thanks to everyone who requested a copy so far. I hope you like my comic book fantasy superhero tale. Althought mostly a stand-alone story, I left some wiggle room for two possible sequels in the future. Unfortunately I still have seven more copies to give out to anyone wanting one, even just as a curiosity. All that is needed to receive one is sending an e-mail ([email protected]) and I'll mail it to any address or post office box indicated in the e-mail. I guess I hoped 10 books would go faster than the 20 copies I gave away of A Legacy of Blood, but that is not happening now. Although my vampire hunter book might have needed more editorial work, when I thought it was ready last year, I hope that embarrassing first impression in no way detracts from a story with which I took greater care learning from some mistakes. I also realize that most fans of such a story as The Circle of Light would probably prefer to read illustrated comic books or graphic novels telling a similar story, but I'm not a talented artist (some might say not any better as an author now) and have known that since 1981-82. Or perhaps they might want to read Wild Cards or some DC or Marvel paperback novel instead of my still largely unknown work. Eventually I will give these books out to someone, but for now there are still seven available for free. What have you got to lose, apart from time? I'll be waiting. About 13 years ago I started seriously trying to write a horror fiction novel in the style of Stephen King modern day horror atmosphere mixed with Howard Phillips Lovecraft eldritch monsters engaged in a cosmic conspiracy against Earth. The end result was a 606-page (originally 475) novel The Nightmare of Aarontown that promptly failed to gain any interest from publishers or literary agents over the on-and-off efforts to sell it for eight years.
Undaunted by that failure and other failures of my short fiction being published until nine years after finishing my first sci-fi piece "Announcing the Forthcoming Death of a Friend," I wrote my first space opera sci-fi story (intended as part one of five) Goram - The First World: The Prophecy of Kolab. But alas after it failed equally as the first book, I then stubbornly wrote two sequels to that sci-fi story stalling with a third sequel when I needed to change some events in the third volume final chapters and never getting to the concluding volume even as a rough draft. I was also writing more short fiction each year after 2000, but again until 2009 no one was interested in publishing any of them. More books followed some years between 2004 and 2011, three of those I've since self-published (Worldjumpers, A Legacy of Blood and The Circle of Light) but the first effort sold only five copies since August, the second one Kindle copy since December and the last one zero copies to date. CreateSpace recently paid me my royalties for the past almost eleven months - $17.47. Thanks to all those who bought my books in whatever format, even though writing ain't paying the bills. I instituted another book giveaway (10 copies of The Circle of Light) but considering the embarrassing errors in my second book (since corrected but too late) having give out 20 copies, perhaps my failures as a book marketer and proofreading editor are definite signs I'm no potential bestselling author. Being the artist, or the talent (that's being overly generous, since I must have none), is not enough to succeed in the book market. I'm no networker or ass-kisser in terms of building the career, which means I cannot succeed on the strength of my written words alone as could a genius author. My dream has been stillborn since 2000 and despite persevering for years, I'm at the end of my rope. I love writing but can't make any progress toward even the slightly known author with a cult following. I probably will never qualify for posthumous fame like some authors gain after death. Two copies of my newest book have been requested in the space of one week, probably because of the failure my second book was in quality and most folks who like comic books won't read some new non-illustrated comic book adventure - those readers would rather stick with Wild Cards or the major league comic company's (DC and Marvel) paperback prose stories about their favorite illustrated funny page heroes. I may suspend all writing activities after sensing my newest effort to break into non-self publishing with a horror story (I started in 2001 and put aside finishing until 2009) called Claws of T'birsk would not impress Dark Moon Press or perhaps any other small to large publisher looking for the next Twilight. My book is far from a sure thing and I don't know how to sell it to the publishing gatekeepers always rejecting my work in the past. I was considering self-publishing my otherworlds fantasy novel Sister Helena of the Sword sometime this year, but what's the point - no novel I write sells well. I thought my careers dream had a chance because, unlike some athlete's dream that fails with the body getting old, writing doesn't have to end when one becomes older in years. But I guess my late parents and everyone else I know that thought I was insane believeng I could write fiction for a living - they were all correct, and I was wrong. |
The Would-be (but not truly yet) Professional Fiction Author.A writer of speculative ficiton since 1999, John X. Grey has since been published a few dozen times, but still seeks greater professional success. Archives
January 2019
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