The Taste of Success

I’m going to talk about something a bit more personal than usual. I’m going to avoid giving details about some things, but I wanted to discuss my success, and what it means to me. This isn’t to get a pat on the back or even to make you feel sorry for me, but just some thoughts that I’ve been thinking of sharing for a while.

That in mind, I’m not a New York Times or a USA Today bestseller. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been a Kindle bestseller, either. Unless people read urban fantasy or paranormal romance, they’ve probably never heard of me or my books. But I’m very happy with how far I’ve come in such a short time.

Aside from the three novels already on shelves, most of you blog readers know I’ve got three more in the pipeline for the H&W Investigations Series. I’ve also got the two novellas out in anthologies with names big enough that I’m in awe my work is included with theirs. Not only are some of my books in English, but also in German and French. That’s no small thing.

When I got my first check, I cried. That four-figure sum was the most money I’d had to my name at any one time since 2004. For the first time in five years, I didn’t have to worry about whether I was going to be able to pay my rent and my phone bill on time, or if I was going to be able to make it on my current tank of gas until the next payday. It was the end of deciding which evil was worse every month—overdraft fees or late fees or skirting the line of cancellation of services I needed. I could finally fix the registration and lapsed insurance on my car. I could go out to dinner with my friends and not have to be afraid that I was going to have to subsist on ramen (or nothing at all) for a few days, until my next paycheck.

It’s a tough thing, being in debt up to your ears. Thanks to the money I’ve made from my books, I’m currently debt free. No, I haven’t made a gazillion dollars off of my writing, but what I have made has finally given me a reason to have that savings account again. I can go to a few reader/writer conventions. I can go out to eat, stock up my fridge, and not worry if the fumes in my car are enough to get me to work and back until next payday.

And you know what? I got to see my family—my stepdad, my little brother, my grandma, my uncle, my aunt, my cousin—who live on the East Coast for the first time in seven years. I got to hold my two year old second cousin, and meet her daddy, both of whom I’ve only been able to see in Facebook pictures until now.

When I got myself into debt, I didn’t know who to turn to, or what to do to get myself out of it. A few years ago, I made an unwise decision and left a great job to accept an offer working for a place that I thought would pay better in the long run. I took a huge cut in pay that should have been just enough to keep my head above water until things took off at the new place.

It wasn’t. And then the pay stopped coming.

I stuck around longer than I should have when my paychecks became sporadic, praying things would work out. I gambled a lot on it. In the end, I screwed up my credit, decimated my savings, almost had my car repossessed, and my whole life was turned into shambles. I went from a happy, healthy 115 pounds to over 200 over the course of 8 months, just because I was constantly stressed out, eating nothing but junk food, working 70-90 hours a week, and watched my life trickle away through my fingers.

I finally left, crawled back to my old job, and thanked my lucky stars when they took me. I was still miserable, living in awful conditions, feeling like a failure and that things would never turn around. I was now making enough money to get by, but not nearly enough for me to regain everything I had lost or to immediately pay back all of the people I’d borrowed from to pay bills or just to eat while I was working at the other place. It seemed hopeless at the time, a mountain of debt I’d never be able to get rid of. I also took a second job working nights and weekends, not so much for the money, but to keep busy so I wouldn’t turn into a bigger wreck than I already was.

Big surprise, even that wasn’t enough to keep me from being stressed and in need of an escape. I’d always enjoyed writing, so in the wee hours, insomnia keeping me up long after I should have been asleep, I wrote what made me happy.

Most of what I banged out wasn’t all that great. The creepy horror shorts, the fits and starts of numerous novels, and the epic fantasy trilogy will never see the light of day. Some of the fanfic I used to write from before I was in such terrible shape is still out there, moldering in the dark corners of the internet, but it’ll be a cold day in Hell before you get me to admit where you can find it. Heh.

Aside from that stuff? I wrote HUNTED BY THE OTHERS. To be honest, I didn’t really expect it to take off. I worked at it, sure, but that little voice in the back of my head told me I was kidding myself if I thought I was going to make it. My work didn’t measure up to my idols. I’d never be a success.

Well, you know what, self-doubt? Fuck you. Here I am. Earning royalties, read by people in countries I’ve never visited, and making new friends and fans world-over.

I’m still picking up the pieces from when I screwed up my life, but that’s okay. Things are better now. I finally had the time and money to see my relatives, to spend an entire week doing nothing but visiting with them and relaxing. I know that, even though it will be a little while before I can go on a family vacation again, it won’t take me another 7 years this time. I know that, even though I’m overweight and my living conditions aren’t as great as they could be and I can’t afford a new car yet, it’s only a matter of time before I fix those things—because I’m making it happen.

Success tastes like freedom.