This was a message to my Patrons, which means there will be some information in here which will likely make no sense to you, but I wanted this to be known.
This last weekend was hell. The only worse weekends I've ever had involved loved ones dying, just to give you a measure of perspective. Over the course of 48 hours, my already bad mood for the week (because the week was fairly shitty, too) went full depression.
There's a lot going on, but I'm only going to tell you about the two things which are affecting me the most, because they also affect you, and make me question a lot of things.
First, we'll set the stage a bit...
On Friday night, I had to do inventory at work. This kept me there fairly late, though I was home before Midnight. I had volunteered to work the opening shift the next day, despite knowing I'd be there late on Friday, so having only a six hour window for sleep was on me. I normally can function well enough on 5 hours of sleep, so I wasn't too worried about it, but I hadn't accounted for insomnia and anxiety to keep me up well past 3:00 am...
So, I started Saturday on two hours of sleep, which has probably compounded this whole thing, but it is what it is...
When I walked out to my car on Saturday morning, I found out it had been burglarized. This is hardly a new experience for me. I live in a bad area and my back doors don't lock. There's really not much I can do about it other than try to avoid leaving anything valuable in my car.
Well, I had three copies of "From the Cup of the Worthless" in my car, and these were stolen from my trunk. Why they stole these and not the other books in my car I can only guess, since selling an unknown self-published book can't be easy for a thief, especially since it's difficult for me, the author, to do.
And so I can only speculate, and that speculation doesn't take me anywhere good. What will they do to my books once they find out they can't sell them? Throw them away? Deface them in rage? Burn them out of spite?
My art is in the possession of unsavory characters, and I think this is the closest I'll ever come to knowing what it feels like to have a child get kidnapped. I realize it's probably not even close, but my books are my children... and I feel devastated.
That set the tone for Saturday, and I did not have a good day in any sense of the word. I finally slept again on Saturday night, but it was restless, and full of dreams I'd rather not dwell on.
I tried to have a good day on Sunday. I tried to do a lot of things to take my mind off of everything, and then I finally laid down for a nap, but before I did, I decided to check my email.
Which is when I found out that someone had stolen one of my stories and put it up on Wattpad, claiming to be the original author. Thankfully a reader noticed several of this individual's posted stories did not belong to him and he decided to investigate all of them. He wasn't familiar with my work, but he managed to track it down anyway.
After investigating the matter and contacting WattPad, I was drained. I'd planned to work on chapter 6 of "The Pious Road to Perdition", but I couldn't find the energy.
I couldn't find the energy this morning, either. In fact, I seem to have even less enthusiasm than I did yesterday. I am emotionally drained, which is cancer to art. I have never felt so violated in my life. I am more depressed than I have ever been, a feat I would have thought impossible before it happened.
And I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know when or even IF I'll be able to write again, especially something as emotional as "The Pious Road to Perdition".
And this sucks, and I realize it sucks for you, too, but I don't have any other answer for you. This is breaking me.
That's all there is to say.