Is it shit?

You may at first think I am writing about the English sea. I could be writing about anything. I could be writing about the government or maybe something I have bought in a burst of madness. No, I am writing about my writings. You can close your browser now. Go on; I know you want to. I hear the groan from here, “here he is, bobbling on about his writing again. He never stops.”

First things first, I write for myself. I will not ever stop. I still find myself smiling and enjoying the ride when I read through some of my earlier works. I am never satisfied; that is something completely different. I can read and write, but I am never full. I am the world’s fattest bastard, looking at his fifteenth meal of the hour and still feeling hungry. I am a millionaire, no a billionaire, who still feels they need more. I have an unquenchable desire for writing, and it is something I will always have. It is one true happiness in my life.

It is essential, at this point, to understand that I am never happy with my work. The question is, am I any good at it? Is it shit? Maybe it is complete shite. I can only go by what I am told. I have good reviews and have had very few bad critiques. I do not submit all that often, but when I have done, I have either been accepted or had replies complimenting my work, for example.

We have a very specific taste and, although we feel your work was well done, we didn’t think it fit in with our style of insanity.

It is, still, never enough. Are all authors and creatives this self-conscious of their own work? Am I just another in a tidal wave of mediocrity and worrying about what others think? Do I care what others think? I do, and that is what makes it annoying. So I want to remove the fact that I’ll always write from this and move on.

Still here? Most impressive. Thank you for holding on.

I am told repeatedly that I can write. When I have moments of doubt, others, often writers, pop up and urge me to continue. I care what others think, good, bad, or indifferent. I’ll be honest and say that I do not believe them; creative insecurity is hard to shake. In fact, I think it is impossible to wobble free from. I do not want to be rid of it. If I am ever happy with my work, I think it would mean I have become complacent. It would mean that I have stopped being critical of myself, and I should be the most critical person. That is why the criticism does not really matter to me. I have never had anyone say anything worse than the lines I have muttered to myself.

But, what is it that I want from this? What is it that makes me tick… I do not wish to be rich; I am useless with money and would give away what I didn’t need. I do not want any degree of fame. I can think of nothing more unappealing. Just the thought of being known fills me with a certain dread. I would have happily self-published under the Satan name had the companies I used let me. I can switch that persona on and off at will. It is easier to be someone else! I can just be Satan rather than being me.

I think I just want to be comfortable and happy. I want to be able to sign off and live with words. I do not want to earn more than I need; I am a simple soul. Sure, I want to be contented with my finances, but I do not need to be Scrooge McDuck. There are an obscene number of billionaires I could have used over a fictional duck. I feel a little sorry for the duck, but I did not want to give them the name check.

I am wallowing a little in my self-pity; if you have made it this far, I thank you. I ask that people review my things, yet so many don’t. I have had five hundred and three copies of my works pass through Amazon. Many, the vast majority, have been given away for free (three hundred and fifty). As I said, it is not about the money. And, drumroll, please, I have had an incredible number of thirty-seven reviews.

So if you made it this far, I hope you understand why I get the arsehole and tweet a lot about reviews. Just imagine if everyone who had a copy left a review; imagine if every one of my followers on Twitter read and reviewed. I do not ask for good reviews; I ask for honest ones. I post all my shorts for free and then compile and sell them; what is your excuse? Everyone can read The Satanic Curses and A Memoir Of Madness. What is stopping you?

Amazon — https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lee-Wilson/e/B09999KRYZ/

Goodreads — https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21726221.Lee_Wilson