Escape Velocity

I need to reach orbit—escape the atmosphere and the clutches of Earth’s gravity. The launch was bumpy, but ultimately successful, and since then, I’ve been burning fuel like mad. My booster rocket got me high enough to see the stars. Now, I’ve jettisoned the first-stage engines and fired up the second. I figured I was destined to reach escape velocity, that singular moment when your speed and trajectory overcome the forces dragging you back down. Only, I feel like I’m about to run out of fuel, and the world below me is refusing to release its hold! I should be up there now; I’ve done everything right. But for whatever reason, orbit seems to always just be out of reach!

I’ve been writing for twelve years now, published for nine, independent for five. I’ve got nine novels to my name, and I’m in the midst of book ten. I know I can write. My books are all well-reviewed. People seem to love them. The covers aren’t half bad. And I’ve spent the last three years experimenting with ads.

I’ve sold thousands of books. I’ve had nearly two million page reads. But the problem is, the royalties barely cover the cost of exposure, if even. I sell a couple of books a day and have reliably been doing so for three years. But no matter what I experiment with, no matter how hard I try, I’ve hit a plateau and can’t climb any higher. The momentum isn’t building, irrespective of how much energy I pump in.

I need to write more books—publish faster! But in order to do that, I need more time. But in order to have more time, I need more time away from my day job. In order to be able to afford more time away from my day job, I need more money. And in order to have more money, I need to be able to sell more books. In order to sell more books, I need to write more books, and thus, I seem to be stuck in a perpetual cycle!

I’m not giving up. I don’t think I ever could. If I didn’t enjoy the process, I couldn’t have made it as far as I have. But twelve years is a long time. I can’t help but think that I should have made it by now. And with each passing year, the hope fades a bit more; the dream seems a little more distant. I’m close, I know—I feel it in my bones! But I can never seem to get over the line. The heavens always seem just that little bit too far out of reach!