I’ve heard of authors, whether they made it big by industry standards, or by their own, who have walked away from publishing new material after releasing one or two books.
I used to wonder wtf that was about, because getting published was one of my goals.
And then I saw the other side of this gig, the world that exists beyond my own.
The business end of things.
The politics of it.
The reader spaces that don’t know anything but toxicity.
The active trolls who don’t know how to be anything else.
The competition.
The absolute pretense and the loss of self just to fit in.
The playing of the game β
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.
Something inside the artist dies, when the truth of the business end of their dreams is revealed to them.
All the revelations!
And now, I get it.
I absolutely get it.
I get the burning desire to preserve the beauty of the dream, and the art that is birthed from it. I understand wanting to protect the magic of the Gift from those who would seek to reduce it to a hobby, or something that anyone can do.
Even if that means stepping away β stepping back β and keeping it close to the vest, where only a few can access it.
I get it.
Because really, people are exhausting. They have this Herculean ability to wreck beautiful things. And I say this confidently, knowing that I too am a person.
β J.D..πΆ