I never ever thought I'd be that kind of desperate.
I've had this...thing, I guess. Long story, short novel. I spent two years bleeding over it until I was completely dried out and loved every second. I recently read it over and-
Well, I'm still in love with it, but I know it's gonna stay hidden in my computer until the end of time. It's not something that would ever get published. Maybe looked at a bit (it already has), and maybe even some good feedback (which, again, I've already got), but nothing further. My poor pages would stay locked up within myself unless I made some serious compromise.
And you know damn well I'm not rational enough to do that.
I've read about other edgy-type girls striking out. Getting famous by going out on their own way with Tumblr poetry and pretty-faced words. I hope I'm not Tumblr poetry. I hope I'm not the "crazy bitch", as I've been called by actual Tumblr poetry (Hi E! you cunt). I hope I'm something better, something that could one day make enough money off of my typing that I would never bother with public opinion ever again.
But that's not today.
So, I thought I might as well at least let that story be out there. Amazon, hand drawn cover, cryptic-like nom de plume (still wanna keep an air of mystery, I guess. Only thing worth interest outta me anymore.).
I don't know who likes reading all this, and I don't really even know if anybody is reading this, but here it goes anyway: I have a pinch of my self-published heart out for sale, both digital and in print.
Here are the links. Make something of me, please.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07D5K8F98
And in paperback.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1982935456
From a humble, semi-psychotic high school graduate, thank you.
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