Don't hate the player, hate the game, unless you love the game, then nevermind

Ask me, "Larry, how much are you learning about the world of indie/self publishing?"Say it out loud, now. (Pause) "Good question," (vomits on your shoes).

You hear that phrase "Learning Curve" and think, "Sure, a learning curve. Everything has one," as if it's no big deal. It's a big deal. I knew getting into this writing/publishing game that my learning curve would be huge - I still can't spell rythmn and I'm learning about "black out freebie days," - however, feeling like a chimp was not something I imagined for myself.

Learning how to do things hurts. Knowingly running towards the thing you know is going to hurt you is lunacy but it still beats submitting to Chad, the young, hipster project manager who has an action item list for you. Chad, with the argyle cardy and horn rims.

While I feel as if I've launched myself into a spectacular Acapulco cliff dive, I can't help but feel elated at being a small business owner. I'm making all kinds of mistakes, costing me money and time. I'm second guessing myself. I ate one too many Medi-Fast snacks today (you're allowed 5 - but this shit works). I'm blundering towards success, but more importantly, I'm blundering towards something of my own creation.

And I'm loving this game.

I used to love - make that like - the advertising game right up until I hated it. That might happen here as well because I'm a fickle bastard. But this time around I'm nailing two birds: being creative and controlling my success. I'm finding that as each day passes, I'm writing more and I'm searching out new ways to publicize my book. I'm not working 8 hour days. I'm working 3 hours here, 2 there, another 2 over there. In other words, I'm working according to the rythmn (shit!) of my creative and marketing output.

I love the game and love the player (that's what 15 years of therapy does to you).

Now go buy the book. Then write the review. Go on, git.

Don't punk out.

So I'm what? 30 days into the book being released - but never mind that PR - I'm talking about Monday mornings, when you wake up and try to think of every conceivable way to get some more sleep. Awe my god, just 45 minutes - hell, half an hour would do it. But no, you've gotta get up and begin the process of getting your hump out of bed and starting the day. But the desire to cave is so huge, this must be what it feels like to have a meth addiction. Sometimes I wonder if it'd be better to open a meth clinic that kept you constantly high until you wasted away - certainly there must be some organs worth harvesting? I dunno - meth heads want to be in that state of bliss forever - me? I just want an extra hour in the morning. We all do.

Or at least to wake up when the sun actually comes out.

I've been thinking about the concept of punking out (which may be a west coast surfer/skater colloquialism - maybe not) and how it's a daily churn to try and keep a book out there, hopefully getting at least one more reader a day (which is kinda of where I'm at - maybe 2.5 readers). Are you sick of hearing about "Paradise Rot?" Nah, I'm the one sick of hearing about it. But still, I wrote it, I'm stuck with it. And I'm proud of it, like a story about you being drunk enough to get saran wrapped around a concrete pillar in a parking garage, naked. That shit happens. 

So I don't punk out. I treat every day of PR on the book like a Monday morning, minus the five minutes of staring directly at the kitchen wall while your kid wants breakfast.