I’ve been working on my writing and other projects for almost ten years. The last five, I’ve been pushing hard just to get my books, and myself, noticed. Being an indie author is exhausting. I push and push and get nowhere. I started a YouTube channel to help get eyes on my work, but nothing. My website gets over 20,000 views a month, yet not one person has taken the next step and bought a book. It feels like I need to face facts and consider the possibility that I was never meant to succeed here.
The sad thing is, writing was the one thing I felt I was really good at. I struggled my entire life with a need to be creative. I tried all kinds of outlets: art, woodworking, culinary arts. None of them worked. It wasn’t until I started writing that I truly felt alive. I love being able to create a new world and share it with people.
The world, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to love what I have to offer. After three novels, a novella, and several short stories, I have nothing to show for it. A few good people have found my books and let me know they enjoyed them, and that felt incredible. But when you only sell a few books a year and every attempt to get noticed fails, burnout finally sets in.
I have other stories in my head I would love to write, but if no one wants to read what I already wrote, why clutter up the world with more unwanted books? I have no desire to even try. It’s a horrible feeling. I want to give these stories to the world, but what I’ve given so far has been pushed aside for “AI slop.” The algorithms and the public seem to love it. There doesn’t seem to be room for someone who wants to tell a real, heroic story. People want the equivalent of cotton candy. No substance, just a quick dopamine hit before they move on to the next one. Books that make you sit down and think are just too much for them.
Burnout isn’t permanent. I’m not going away forever. But I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Maybe a few months. Maybe a year or two. Maybe someone famous will stumble across my books and tell their friends and suddenly I’m not an unknown anymore. More likely, no one will find them. Or if they do, they’ll read the back, think it sounds interesting, then set it down and pick up some AI-generated power fantasy instead.
I’m not mad. Disappointed? Absolutely. I never thought I’d be an overnight success, but I was hoping for a little something more. I’ll take some time off, regroup, and see what happens next. Maybe I’ll get back in the chair sooner than I thought. Maybe this is the end. I don’t know.
stephenhudler.com 
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