Introducing the Indie Writer's Wheel of Pain

Doing what I love shouldn't depress me. Right? But everyday I do what I love. And doing what you love is supposed to fill you with purpose. And when I'm writing, I feel fulfilled. When I'm marketing my writing I feel excited. When my books don't sell, I feel depressed. It's a vicious circle. Manic to depressed. Do I then suffer from manic depression? Am I bipolar? I could draw a diagram to represent it easily. In fact, here:

But I also know that's the life of a creative. I've failed at a few things. Illustration, fine art, writing - I guess- though writing is what I keep coming back to... Maybe I should have taken journalism or some other form of writing in post-secondary school, but for whatever reason, at the tender age of 18, I thought visual arts was my game. It wasn't. At least, nothing I could make a living from. Not really. Turns out making money from writing isn't my jam either though. So, what am I supposed to do when I feel drawn to tell stories? Tell them I guess, otherwise, I might burst. Spontaneously combust. Hey, maybe that would be best, but then that's the depression stage talking now; waiting to sell a book or two. Being in-between writing is the most agonizing. Working a day job and wanting to be someone else is difficult too. Should I quit my job and go full time as a writer? That's a pretty stupid idea when you've already proven your books don't really sell. After writing 12 of varying genres... and working as a marketing manager full time, you'd think the two would eventually click and I'd get a best-seller out of the pairing.

Maybe I suck at everything I do. That's a depressing thought. Oh, right, I'm suffering the depressing stage - that red arrow in my little diagram above... Maybe I should stop writing this thought out and force another smile at another co-worker and engage in mindless water cooler banter. I am thirsty...

The Honest Author