Where did they all go?

I’ve been doing a lot of online research lately, not only for the Urban Fantasy book I’m writing under Anne, but also on website design, blogging, author business planning, creating editorial calendars for blogs and book publishing, and various genre rules that I shouldn’t break but probably will out of ignorance to the rules.

But all that isn’t the point of this post. Nope, the point is that I want to know where they all disappeared to and why?

Who you ask? The authors, silly.

One day they’re there going strong, the next day they’re gone. Vanished. No website. No books. Nothing more than a memory and a few small ghostly footprints left behind by their passing. Like the fading gravestones in a cemetery. Slowly, ever so slowly worn down by time and elements, fading away. Only in fast forward.

Damn that morbid.

Of course, this strange phenomenon made me think of the writers I met when I finally joined the online world back in 2008. Do you know what I found?

Maybe a handful of those I knew are still writing and publishing. Everyone else has disappeared, or stopped writing from what I can tell. Their website sit neglected, pathetically crying for attention. Even those that seemed to be making descent money from their book sells are  gone.

I know last year was hard on all writers, but it still makes me sad to think of all the writers gone, all the good books I will never get to read because life happened or they gave up.

But it also made me realize something about myself. No matter hom much I might want to give up some days, no matter how little I’m making, I’m not smart enough to my sinking abandon ship. I’m determined to stay and apparently drown, because to be frank my ship has sunk and is sitting at the bottom of the ocean waiting to be salvaged.

But that doesn’t matter anymore, because of something else I realized this week. No matter how little I’m making writing. No matter how much I may bitch and moan to my writer friend until I’m pretty sure she is now avoiding me like a plague carrier. No matter how little time I have in the day, my butt will always find it’s way back into the chair and my fingers to the keyboard of a computer. Hell, give me a pen and paper and I’ll write you a story longhand. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Which reminds me I should probably get that notebook out of my work pants and type up the notes in there just in case. I’d hate to relive the washing machine debacle of 1996. That perfect idea for a story would have made me famous if my mom hadn’t washed it. JK, I doubt it was that good, but my 16 year old heart was sure it was the greatest idea of all time.

Anyhoo, the point I’m trying to make is that I’d rather be writing then almost anything else, and the one other thing I would rather do… Well, I’m not got to mention it here. Now I’m really curious to know what you guys would think my favorite activity would be? I’m also scared to ask. I’m not going to ask.

Instead I’m going to embrace my writing as a hobby and let the business aspect  take a flying leap. 😀