So, would everyone hate me if instead of writing the sequels I’m supposed to write (to Slow Burn, Helicon, and Jason and Azazel), I instead wrote an NA love triangle romance set against the zombie apocalypse?
Come on, it would be like The Last Man on Earth, only with two guys and a girl. There’s really NO ONE else. So there would be all this tension and pressure on which guy she’d pick, and what she’d do, and there would zombies trying to eat them at every second, so it would all be very heightened and intense. Plus, I mean, is it that much of a stretch to think she’d pick both? When it’s been eons since any of them have seen another person?
You would like it.
Okay, you wouldn’t. No one would.
Grumble, grumble. Fine.
I swear to God, I do not know what is wrong with me. I write books that need sequels, and while I’m writing the first book, I think to myself, “I loves these characters and this world. I could write about them until the end of time and never get sick of them.”
And then it comes time to write the sequel, and I’m like, “I don’t know what I ever saw in you.” I’m very fickle when it comes to characters.
This is problematic, because sequels sell. (Although I must admit, I am really glad I snuck in Slow Burn instead of writing the next Helicon book like I was supposed to, because now I’m going to be able to pay off my car! Seriously, that book has made me nearly three times as much money this month than my previous best month ever. That was lucky.) And I don’t want to be this horrible writer that leaves people hanging, not telling them what happens to the characters they care about. I understand that people like my characters way more than they like me. I get that.
I didn’t write today.
And I only wrote 2,000 words yesterday, and that was also all I managed on Thursday, and I didn’t write Friday either. (although I did 2K on Sunday to try to get caught up.)
I feel really guilty about that.
Possibly, I’m having a freakout because Slow Burn just dropped 400 places in the rankings over the weekend. That was terrifying. I mean, it’s still selling really well, better than any other book I’ve ever written, but there was something about watching those ranks drop. It made my mouth dry and my palms sweaty. I don’t know why. I think it’s because I feel like getting that book so high in the ranks in the first place was a mistake that someone made somewhere. Like the Fates who are weaving the threads of my life are doing this:
Fate #1, peering down at my loom. “Did you know that Valerie’s actually being successful with her writing?”
Fate #2, setting down her coffee cup. “What? That can’t be right. Not her. Things that good don’t happen to her. I must have gotten confused which loom I was weaving.”
“Well, you better fix that before she starts getting any ideas.”
“You’re right. What a horrible mistake I’ve made.”
And so any dip in rank makes me think that I’m plunging back where I belong, and it scares me. Like I should have known that was temporary.
Of course, The Killing Moon is having its typical release where my twenty fans that buy my new releases have bought it. (Thank you so, so much. Just ignore this post, please. I don’t complain or think bad thoughts. You are fabulous, awesome people. Don’t ever change.) This drives home to me how much Slow Burn was a lucky fluke and how I am really not in the slightest bit of control of anything. I’m at the mercy of the random whims of the cosmos. Sometimes that really scares me.
Which is also maybe why I’m not writing.
I don’t know.
Why am I not writing?????
Ehh. Considering everything is at the mercy of the random whims of the cosmos, I’m not sure it matters. But I would like to write that zombie story someday. Maybe I will. But first I’d better get back to the sequel to Slow Burn. Tomorrow. I’ll definitely get back to it tomorrow.