If you ask me do I know any published authors, I can safely say you are looking at one, without lying in the process. But I am yet to hold that title under the Publishing House umbrella, which means I will soon leave the self-publishing boat for metaphorical watercraft that arguably has a better captain. Enter the traditional publishing.
But why am I even considering going through this process when there is Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing out there, especially when traditional publishing infamously guarantees your book will not see the light of day for at least a year and a half?
I don’t want to spread any negative energy, but I would like to share with you one situation where my thinking turned bad. These were potentially my saddest thoughts, and they occurred about a year and a half after my mother passed away.
I sat down at my computer desk, I stared at the screen for a few minutes, and then I decided to open up a blank text document. At that time, I was a part-time journalist, next to my normal job, but this time I wasn’t going to write anything mixed martial arts-related.
I am by no means an expert on any particular subject, nor do I pretend to understand most of the stuff I hear on podcasts and documentaries I regularly consume. But I have this irresistible urge to dose myself with information in subjects I’m attracted to, and I do so with a hope that every single time I listen to something, at least one tiny fraction of it will rub off on me.
Life was never easy. We, as human beings, after all, did arrive at this point after millions of years of trial and error refinement. Life was not quick at this fundamental method of problem-solving, but it obviously got it done eventually, and now we have the consciousness and power to self-improve.