"Maybe I should just give up?" We've all asked it. If you haven't, you're insane. Any writer needs to ask at some point or another, what chance does your book have? Seriously? In today's world.


It's an honest question.

Something I tell other writers, regardless of their hopes and aspirations; today's market is flooded. It's never been easier to publish a book, and while that sounds exciting, the thought should terrify you. Anybody -everybody- can publish their own book. It's easier than ever, and because of that nearly a million books are produced every year. That also means the average lifespan of a book is less than a thousand copies.

It gets better. You're not just competing against other books. Think of every movie that comes out in a year. Every new TV show. Every show that's streaming and binge worthy. Every web series. Every cat video. All the reading people do on social media. How people take in and process information isn't even the same as it was twenty years ago. And you're going to drop a book into the world?

I can't recall the source, but a few years ago I read one tactic mainstream publishers use is to buy out thousands of copies of their top author's books and stick them in a warehouse somewhere. Just to make sure that exciting new novel makes it onto all the best seller lists. It's cheaper and easier to do that for marketing than actual marketing.


There isn't any statistic that I'm aware of, but the feeling is you have a better chance of getting away with murder than you do selling your books.

That's more or less what I've been going through lately. I published my latest novella in early February. Roadside Attraction, Part Two: Tramp Stamp Vamp. A book eight years in the making. Something I started shortly after finishing the first of the series, Siren Night , but set aside in favor of my now award winning novel, Necromantica . I'm not saying this to boast. I just felt the need to point out that it felt as though Tramp Stamp Vamp should've piqued more interest. A sequel to one of my better selling books (every time I do an promotion for Siren Night on Amazon, it ends up in the top ten of several categories). My last major work had an award behind it. I'd been buzzing about the release on social media for months. Whenever I told people the plot, or brief aspects of the story, it always brought a smile to someone's face. My beta readers enjoyed it. The editor I hired celebrated it. The title is provocative, catchy, and at least a bit comedic. Friends were asking about it. Honestly, I gave myself every reason in the world to believe this book would catch on.

Two months later, and I've sold less than a hundred copies. There hasn't been a single review on Amazon or Goodreads. The book, even for an indie, thus far is a failure. That doesn't mean I can give up on it. It's months and years of work to get a title to catch on. Again, I'm competing against the entire entertainment industry that's cranking new and exciting things on a daily basis. My content output is slow at best. About as frequent as a guy with two jobs can put out new content.

But that doesn't mean I haven't thought about throwing in the towel. Often. Regularly. The question comes to mind. "Who am I even writing to?" It expands into the thought of, "I can spend the rest of my life cranking out book after book after book that nobody will ever read. And what's the point? Why? Why write at all when the final season of Game of Thrones is coming soon? And all the Marvel movies this years. Why write when there's more social media to mindlessly scroll through for hours? Why spend my life failing when I can just enjoy all the amazing creativity the rest of the world is putting out there? Have you guys seen The Chair Gang?

First world problems, I know.

I wouldn't say I'm a religious man. And spiritually speaking, I'm on the fence most days. But in a weaker moment, I found myself asking, aloud, to the world or whatever deity who would listen, "Is this even what I'm supposed to do with my life?"

I know. As if clouds would part and God or the Metatron would float down and say, "Oh, uh no. No, you were actually supposed to have gone to trade school and been an electrician."
         "Oh. Well, can I still do that?"
         "It's a bit late, actually. We've already rewritten your soulmate's destiny and altered the fates of a lot of people when you decided to pursue a creative life."
         "I had a soulmate?"
         "You were supposed to have met her in electrician school."
         "Can I see her?"
         "It'd hurt too much. Better to just let you die in a gutter in eight years without actually knowing."
         "Damn. That's pretty brutal, Metatron."
         "Well, that's what you get for fucking up your life, Keith."

Any Kevin Smith fan will tell you the Metatron sounds (and should sound like) Alan Rickman. For some reason I hear him more like Eddie Izzard. I know I'm wrong for this, but to be fair, Mr. Izzard is a very close second.



Anyway, the maybe I give up question has been on my mind lately.

I think the world answered.

A long gestating project with a friend has been an audiobook version of Necromantica. Originally we were supposed to start on it last summer, but life has a way keeping its own schedule, so contact has been minimal and it really started to feel like this wasn't ever going to get off the ground. Then the other night, I was sick in bed (I've been at war with the common cold for about four days now.), and my friend sent me a brief recording of the prologue. It was just a test. She just wanted me to hear her voice and tone. But it was perfect. It was better than all the ways I'd imagined her reading it. Just a few minutes of story. Followed by her cat barging in and her saying, "Dammit!" But it sounded spectacular. I couldn't have been more thrilled.




The next day, a friend from high school found one of my books in the Tardis Detroit. This isn't too entirely shocking. I'd dropped off several books from Detroit authors (Kasey Pierce and Jamaal May) along with a few of my own in the Tardis about a week prior. In fact, I've been leaving books all around Metro Detroit for about three years now. Mostly in Little Free Libraries. Recently I've discovered The Book Fairies, and have been including their stickers with my books, just as a way to encourage people to share books instead of leaving them on a shelf. For the most part I'd only been putting my books around town. Lately I'm trying to include other Detroit based authors, preferably indies. Especially in locations such as the Tardis.

It's one thing to get my own work out there. I'm hustling. Struggling. Hanging on by a thread more days than I should admit. But I have to figure most other indie authors are going through it too. So if I can get their work out into the world along with my own, all the better.

So it's funny that just the day after I get the very first sample recording of my upcoming audiobook, a friend from high school, someone I haven't had a real conversation with in over twenty years, sends me a picture on Facebook, showing me that she "found this little gem" in the Tardis Detroit. Tramp Stamp Vamp of all things, being called a gem.

Two things together, one day after the next, were enough to help restore my faith in myself. But the world didn't stop there. Like I said, I've had a cold. I'm in day four, missing work today, and feeling all around pretty miserable. But I managed to make it to the pharmacy to stock up on DayQuil, Airborne, cough drops, and orange juice. It was early afternoon, and I'd just finished paying for my drugs at the U-Scan, when a random somebody approached me. Like I said, I leave my books all over town. She asked, "Is your name Keith Blenman?"
        I was prepared to be served, but I said yes.
        "Are you an author?"
        I knew who she was from that. She'd posted a review of Necromantica on Goodreads recently. I'd left a copy of the book on a bench outside the store earlier this year, Book Fairies sticker included. She saw me shopping, recognized me from social media, and just wanted to say how much she enjoyed my book.

That said, I'd like to take a moment to apologize to her. Like I said, I've had a cold. I feel terrible, but I've never been approached by a fan before and wasn't thinking clearly. I definitely shouldn't have shaken her hand. Especially while sick. Plus I'd been in bed since Saturday and hadn't showered or even brushed my teeth. She got me at my absolute worst. So I'm very, deeply sorry if you catch this cold. And if I smelled bad.

Anyway, no matter how awkward and stinky I was in the couple of minutes that we chatted, she smiled at me, said several times how much she enjoyed my book, asked when she can expect a sequel, and told me to "Keep up the good work."

Totally out of the blue. What a moment.

Anyway, with those three experiences, one day after another, even while sick, I think the world gave me its answer. I don't know what I believe in, let alone what you believe in, but I asked, and something was definitely listening. Whether you believe that or not, if you find yourself asking the same questions I do, keep trying. Keep working. Don't give up on yourself. You never know what tomorrow will bring.

Also, take a shower. You never know who you'll run into.

That's my advice. Don't give up on yourself. And always take a shower.