Went to a meeting for the self-publishing association here, and admitted that I had given up writing a novel. So why did I go?
Mostly to meet KP, as an excuse. He is the head of the association and a nice guy and I’d like to talk to him more. Didn’t get to do it that much during the meeting, but at least I was reminded why he was a nice guy.
And I got out to meet someone – anyone – after sitting for myself for the nth time working.
I have no regrets about the novel yet, in case you were wondering. I told my story with a straight face and added something about being there also to help with the webdesign part of the promotion for self-publishers, answer questions etc. Maybe find prospective customers.
I guess I was, but mostly I was there because I felt lone and wanted to see someone else than my family and KP was the option that day, as well as the others in the association’s local group.
And then, I suppose, I felt a whiff of nostalgia about the self-publishing business that I once tried to become part of, for quite a few years. And that leads to empathy with the people still being in it, I would say. I really like hearing about their projects and efforts, and maybe help if I can – pro bono and within reason.
But it is okay that I am not trying to be a novel author anymore. As I think I have written about extensively in earlier posts, I was mostly in that game for the wrong reasons despite having some good ideas and some of the right emotions – the right drive.
It is a long story and I really don’t care to reiterate it here and now, but suffice to say: Sometimes one can really feel no regrets.
At least for today.