Forgetting is Actually Easy

It was only a little over a week ago that I was fixated on marketing Inn Dreams. Now that book is fading from my memory. Yes, already. 

The entire chapter was a bad experience. Not the book itself; just trying to push it. The book's okay. I'm not ashamed of it. And I learned such a valuable lesson from my failed marketing ~ something that should have been obvious. I needed to write for me.

I'm no spring chicken. I don't have decades to find my way. And I'm sure not going to spend the years I have left trying to please people. Know how many years I spent doing that? In reality, it rarely works anyway. 

So now when I pull up my author email account and see all those new ARC readers, I just exit out. Sure, I'll eventually add them to my newsletter list because that's the thing to do, I guess, but Inn Dreams is in my rearview mirror. Leave a review; don't leave a review. My biggest satisfaction from that book is the setting, which still resonates with me as if it's real. I like that. I created a world that lives like a real-life memory in my mind. But now I've left that place behind. 

All writers become obsessed with their current book. If they didn't, why would they bother writing it? But the difference between writing one book and ten is that prolific writers understand that it's simply a moment in time. And it's not healthy to stuff all your dreams into the success or failure of one book. It's just a book. Most of the books I've written I barely remember. I can give a high-level overview of the plot, hopefully, but the minutiae? Shoot, I've mostly forgotten the main characters' names. Some of my books were fun to write; some weren't. I remember the ones that weren't the most. But there's always a new story to tell. 

And so, I wave goodbye to Inn Dreams. I won't say it was fun while it lasted. It wasn't. But, oh boy, this new story....