When you’re a kid, you can point at pretty much any object, blurt out what it is, and people will cheer and pat you on the back and tell you how smart you are. It’s a great feeling, all that praise. You get addicted to the approval and accolades. But somewhere in your forties people suddenly become less impressed. You can point at a tree, yell, “Tree!” and no one is impressed. Sure, if you know exactly what kind of tree it is (Oak tree!) you might buy yourself another few weeks. But people soon tire of that too. Particularly as it may have been a maple tree.
Eventually you learn to live without the constant praise and adoration of your fellow humans. Yeah, your life is shallow and meaningless and you’re no longer quite convinced you’re as clever as your mom told you, but you soldier on. Maybe you do something particularly clever at work once like remember to label something correctly and your boss says “Good job” but you don’t really care. Maybe if she clapped and jumped up and down and got all giddy about it you might get some small taste of that old rush. But she won’t. And if you ask, she’ll look at you like you’re a nutter.
And then one day you write a book. It takes several years to write, twice as long to edit, and three times as long as that to find a home with an indie publisher. You’re pretty pleased with it. I mean, how often do you actually complete a task like that? In truth, this is the beginning of the end. You’ve started down that slippery slope to soul-destroying addiction.
When you read that first glowing review, a rush of that old pleasure slams through you. You’re three all over again and someone is raving about how awesome you are! More reviews come in and you bask in the praise of the good ones and plot terrible deaths for the fools who wrote the negative ones. Eventually the reviews stop coming in as it’s a tiny publisher and you’ve done a terrible job of promoting your book because you thought that’s what publishers did. You probably won’t clue in until your second book isn’t selling well, but that’s another topic.
You read the old reviews over and over but it’s not the same. They’re nice but you don’t get the same rush. You need a new kick!
So you write another book. This time, because you somehow accidentally learned a ton of stuff during the editing of the first book, this one sells to a big publisher. More reviews come in. Hundreds! You get to pretend you’re three all over again, and for many months you are constantly receiving praise for your efforts. Eventually, even that deep well dries up and you have to write another book. And another. And another.
It’s too late. You’re a junkie.
I gotta go now. I’m jonesing for a fix. The Mirror’s Truth just came out and is still getting reviews. Oh, fresh reviews! Does it get any better?
About the books:
The Mirror’s Truth is the second book of Manifest Delusions. First book is Beyond Redemption, which was critically acclaimed and well liked by the grimdark community. See my review here.
The Mirror’s Truth is even better and the characters and plots are truly stellar. My review is coming soon. Click the images to order the books.
About the Author:
Michael R. Fletcher lives in the endless suburban sprawl north of Toronto. He dreams of trees and seeing the stars at night and being a ninja. He has a rather insane blog, which can be seen here: http://michaelrfletcher.com/