Bookmaking log: a lot, honestly | TBN +1,909 words
• • • nothing writ’ below these dots • • • is meant for human eyeballs • • •
where do I even begin?
now, word count adds to 19
so first, I have completely changed my mind about Sto’tryp, the proof copy is on its way once more. I have updated the homepage of the website to include the full schedule I mentioned in the first post of Season 1, and I also added one project to that list, it’s likely going to come out between Sto’tryp and W-666/2. It’s just not a long project, I have the whole thing planned and figure it’ll total out around 50/60k. Could be longer, could be a novella, we’ll see. It’ll be called Project R in the Bookmaking log, and uh, W-666/2 will be called Project P. Because W-666/2 is going to be arc II of Planewalkers, which The Face of Fear is arc I of. Also, I’m going to update the schedule to say Project R and Project P right now
Also, at the top of the homepage is a link to my GoFundMe. I have set up a GoFundMe! The goal is $20,000. I need roughly $16,000ish to pay off all my current debts and fix my car and whatnot, and then the rest i’m just going to bank so I can have a little bit of breathing room to continue my work unhindered. I also listed some goals for the near future and some goals for the slightly more distant future and gave the whole story of why I’ve done what I’ve done, why I do what I do, why I’m not going to stop until I’m stopped
speaking of which, I wanna clarify something, hence the title of today’s rendition of The Note. I uh, I’m in a kind of tough spot right now. The finances are low, and I’m functioning, I am getting right on by, I’m okay, but I can’t really tolerate any, like… bullshit. I don’t mean that as in i am going to fucking SNAP AND SHOOT SOMEBODY, no, not at all. Listen, at this stage of the game, I’ve figured certain things out about myself. One of those things is that I need to maintain a proper set and setting in order to achieve an optimal state of existence, and I’m gonna tell you right now, living in my parents’ attic and making virtually zero money for the frankly impressive amount of work i’ve done is not the proper set and setting for the bookmaker
As far as I’m concerned, I’ve done and am doing all I can to help myself and establish The Hillside Commons as a thing. I’ve created it all from scratch, I’ve set it up to be easily accessed for free, I’ve put together an ample number of ways to support me, and I actively share the content on social media every day. I have literally 3 new books in the works right now. They will be number 16, 17, and 18. See, when you look at it from my perspective, I am doing literally everything I can. At this point, it is up to you, the community, the human being who didn’t write these words you’re readings, to support me and what I’ve done. If I didn’t write these books, I would have committed suicide. That’s not a threat, either, that’s just literally what happened. I was almost one of those kids, but I changed my mind. I did what most of those kids didn’t think to do, and I have been working my ass off ever since, and that’s just what it is. I’m not going to stop no matter what, I’m literally going to build a library one day, and the shelves of that library are going to be filled with the works of the ‘mans who walk between them. It’s going to be a beautiful creation and it’s going to be open to all, but right now?
When I am, at 26 and 1.2 million words living in my parents’ attic setting up a GoFundMe begging the world for money so I can pay off my debts and perhaps sleep a little better at night? Right now, if you’re not trying to throw the rest of your life away and dedicate yourself 100% to The Hillside Commons like I have, I don’t want you to be fucking here! Like, fuck off! Y’know what I mean? As far as the whole I don’t know a single human being who I would want to create things with thing I said back when I was planning on continuing with Sto’tryp. This is what I mean by that.
To clarify the clarification: Unless you are willing to give to The Hillside Commons everything I have given to The Hillside Commons – and that does mean everything, if that isn’t clear – then I have no place for you in my life.
All I can do is continue to work and continue to build. They said build it and they shall come yeah well I have built. I am the son of a carpenter, all I know is to build, and until they come, all I will do is build
and you know what?
when the they gets here, all I’m going to do is continue to build
and so are they
when the time comes. but for right now, realistically speaking, I don’t want to text you every couple weeks to see what’s up. I don’t want to hang out once every couple weeks and smoke and chill around talking shit. I don’t want to have to try in order to maintain a relationship with you in which I feel like you’re there for no other reason than the fact that you have nothing going on at the given moment. Like, if you want to be here, then be here. I don’t have time or energy or anything, I have nothing for everything that does not directly involve me getting out on my own and doing it via The Hillside Commons. I just want to live on my own, ‘man, have I not done enough work to deserve some kind of independent dwelling somewhere? Can I please not wake up to my entire family bustling through the house at 6:30 in the morning after staying up until 3:30 am working because that’s when the thoughts and ideas decide to come knocking for whatever reason? Please?
I’m not mad, this is not vituperation, this is facts and truth and nothing else. I am the bookmaker, I make books for a living. It’s as natural to me as breathing is, it’s all I can do, and I exist on this planet. A human being like me exists here and is willing to work and give out all he does for free. If I wasn’t me and I had the means, I would be filling the fuck out of my pockets. I had to stop buying autographed Strange Music CDs, folks, I don’t have the money for ’em anymore. Do you know how sad that makes me? Not nearly as sad as I still am over my dead cat Milkshake, but pretty darn sad! And I really don’t like bringing it up but to be totally clear about how things seem, I feel like I’m totally misunderstood and unappreciated and for some reason seen in a light of general malaise! All I’m doing is writing fiction and trying to make a living out of it. I put more effort into my books than 81% of the authors you’ll read in your life and I haven’t literally gotten nothing for it, I’m very grateful for the support I’ve gotten, but to put it in the style of The Bookmaker’s Note, I’ve been bookmaking for four fucking years and I haven’t made a single fucking dollar, I haven’t gotten anything for it! Yes, I have purpose, which everyone in my life seems to be so fucking jealous of that they can’t bear to talk to me like a normal human fucking being, I will never have a normal human relationship with anybody ever again and from my point of view, all I get is fucking spite and the worst assumed about me and nothing! I get spiteful nothing, I get told to calm down, to relax, to stop doing that thing you always do, to stop being mentally ill
I’m not mentally ill you fucking liquidbrain halfwits, I just found something that I love more than myself! I killed my ego off, just like you all pretend to have done, and I dedicated my life to something higher, something that I believe in, something that came to me! it came for everything and I took it and I let it take me for the good of mankind, I was literally going to kill myself, I had the loaded crossbow in my hands but I decided against it so I could write and all I want to do is wake up in a bed that’s not the twin-sized sweat-and-blood-stained fucking internet fucking mattress every fucking morning to the sound of my fucking parents tromping around and shouting and genuinely apparently acting as if their only goal in life is to wake me up so i have to be up early like them and i have to get no sleep at night like them and i have to be fucking miserable with my fucking life like them because asshole me saw that he had an opportunity do something really special instead of killing himself and he fucking took it! I decided to not be the kid who everybody can pretend to have loved after he offed himself because of how fucking isolated he felt, I grew the fuck up and all you fuckers give me for it is regret!
well fuck you!
i don’t have time for you, and until I don’t have to hear my family acting out the movies playing in their heads on the daily, i’m not going to have time for you! it’s going to be fuck you until i’m outta here, ‘man! fuck you! i choose the books! i choose to continue to write my books that you don’t have the balls to read because you know for a fact that if you actually read everything i’ve written you would have to admit to yourself once and for all that, while you might be better than 81% of all humanity, you are part of a 19%, and partner, you’re going to finally come to realize that I’m not in the 81%, I’m not in the 19%, motherfucker, you’re going to realize that I’m the one who called out the fact that 81% of humanity is shit, 19% of humanity is good, and 1 guy is better than all the fucking rest because, rather than killing himself with a crossbow, he decided to become the greatest fucking writer the world has yet to see, and then he fucking did it!
and now, he’s gonna keep on doing it!
just to clarify one more time
it’s always going to be the books before you
but right now
there is no you
there is just the books, and nothing else
and you’re the only one who can realistically change that.
Since you’re there noted reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~