After eight years of turning out roughly 8-9 novels a year, about April of 2019 I hit a kind of wall. Moving to a new place, dealing with personal issues, working with several new investments, designing homes, traveling…
After sixty-something novels, it seems the universe is telling me it’s okay to take a break.
So I am. I’m chipping away at the new DAN – Nemesis, but not at the 5-6K a day rate I’m accustomed to. More like 1000-1500 words a day. So it’s taking what for me seems like forever. If I’m lucky I’ll be done by the end of July for an August release.
Which has created an insane level of guilt in me, as I feel like I’m totally slacking. I know that’s nuts, but it’s the way I’m wired. And of course, there’s the fear that I’ll never be able to write decently, much less prolifically, again. Irrational, but it’s there like the fear that mole is something more than an annoyance.
My production schedule this year called for five novels: 2 JETs, 2 DANs, and 1 Ramsey’s. At this rate I can see perhaps the 2 JETs, and possibly either a Ramsey’s or another DAN in addition to the current WIP, but doubtful I’ll achieve both.
The truth is that my income is up by almost triple from where it was a couple years ago, entirely due to AMS advertising, so the pressure to publish every 5-6 weeks is minimal from a revenue standpoint. And there’s no fucking way I’m ever going to use a ghostwriter – it’s not that I’m opposed to the practice if the market doesn’t mind, it’s that it seems like it turns a labor of love into a manufacturing scheme, and that’s not my thing – I have enough business interests so that I don’t feel the need to turn my writing into another one.
This is all a long way of saying I’ve made the decision to take it easy this year, recharge my batteries, and only write when I want, so it’s not like it’s a job. Part of the problem in turning what you love into a job is you can lose the passion for it – it becomes work. And being shiftless and lazy, I’ve always despised actual work.
I would rather take a hiatus than hate what I’m doing. So I’m slowing to what I consider next to nothing, and taking it day-by-day.
For everyone who was eagerly awaiting a new DAN at the end of July, I apologize. For those who expected a new Ramsey’s, well, it could still happen in 2019. I’m not saying it won’t. I’m just saying that right now, the beach and margaritas and swaying palms and long siestas soothed by balmy breezes sounds better than 12 hours in front of a monitor.
Hope you bear with me.
I’m not gone. Just…resting.