I know I am supposed to be flogging you material and telling you the new book is coming soon and that it is accessible to all audiences， but the reality is that it is in 中文 and while it is accessible you are not likely going to read it until it is translated into English.
This post is supposed to be about something relatable like something to do with a social media service I do not use, and we are supposed to laugh at its generic nature and how we are all the same, but I cannot do that. I am not even sure why anyone would, except for money.
Which leaves me asking what do you do when you are niche? And I do not mean the "Oh. Nobody appreciates my genius. All those successful people are sell outs or garbage." kind. I mean actually niche. Like I am middle of the road writer who likes to discuss weird things and point out the idiosyncrasy of humanity.
What am I suppose to do with that? We all know that it is not marketable, but it is who I am. It is who I have always been, and I am now too old to think it is a phase. I am an asshole who drinks whiskey and soda, paints cryptic pieces and writes things that he wishes were more profound than they probably are. Does that make me the artist, the hack, or the hipster? I for one am unsure.
So if this is the case why do I keep going? Why do I bother spending all this money all this time and effort on producing a mediocre product that is going only ever to be sold in a niche market, if it is sold at all? Is it because I have faith in the concept of art? No. I have no confidence in such a subject, art could burn and rot for all I care. I would still keep producing my pieces. Hell I know I would keep producing my pieces if no one ever bought them, so why do I do it? What kind of compulsion is it? Why do I have this undeniable urge to create new things? Why won't it cease why do I have to make things? Why can I not be like everyone else and consume or destroy things? What is this predilection with creating and why can I not shut my mouth when it comes to an open forum where I am supposed to be schilling goods but instead criticise everything about the industry. This does not benefit me in any form and ultimately keeps me working a second job so that I can keep the power on for my creative endeavours. Yet here I am ranting again in one of my musings and in no way is this going to benefit me. Hell if I had half a brain at this point, I would write an erotic romance and happily throw out a tawdry novel every so often solely to allow myself the chance to write for a living, but I do not. Instead, I push further along with my crazy novels about an insane horror/romance/fantasy/ neo-noir/thriller/play that involves immortals and god. I do not need an agent to tell me that is a bad pitch or that I am not going to sell, yet I cannot fight the need I have to write such things. To push the boundaries. So it leaves me to realise I am doing this wrong, but I am supposed to do it wrong. I know not why, just that I am supposed to do it wrong as that is who I am and my purpose as a writer.
Even if I probably would have been better staying inside my mother, never to be born amongst this world.