Schizophrenic’s Guide: Marketing (and Finishing) a Novel

I, Dalton Lewis, have decided that it is time for me to make a big step forward in terms of working at a novel-writing career. I am working a lot harder towards making it and convincing the public to read my books. I have worked part-time for way too long, taking days, weeks, and even months off. I haven’t submitted my works to enough agents looking for representation. I haven’t spent enough time trying to write blog entries every day, making people used to reading my blog every single day. I need to go back into that. I have reads on all my fan fiction stories, but I have only written half a dozen chapters. That needs to change, soon.

I need to read more books. I haven’t read enough books this year. I want to start to read one book a week and review it. I want to discuss Warhammer 40k armies and strategy once a week as well — as people tend to read articles about 40k. The problem with the blog has often been a lack of direction — I spent today with my therapist and then getting a blood draw at the hospital.

My therapist walked me into his room. He has a great, comfortable couch and a chair with a pillow that makes the chair awkward — so I sat on the couch.

“How are you doing?”

“Playing World of Warcraft,” I said.

“Oh, yeah? Would I like that game?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You wander around, going on missions, fighting people. It’s fun.”

“I don’t like the multiplayer doing raids thing,” he said. “I could do it if I didn’t need to team up with anyone.”

“It’s not necessary at all,” I said.

“You wanted to write more,” he said.

“I’m still working on my novel. I’m also submitting to agents. I have to get ready for a lot of disappointment,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Did your family think that you would make it?”

“No,” I said. “They didn’t think that I would succeed. It’s difficult, they say. Well, I should be able to do things even if they are difficult.”

“Oh, I agree,” he said.

After the therapy session I went to the hospital to see if the meds that are curing me are also killing me. I sat around, knowing that I should read but just watching people. I was called into a room where the nurse asked my name and date of birth. I told her. She pressed my arm, feeling for a vein. She inserted the needle and got blood immediately — sometimes it takes several times for the nurses, but not this one. She took two vials of blood and then checked my name and date of birth. After this I went to Warhammer — the store at Red Top Plaza. I built some intercessors that I think will improve my deathwatch. I made it home in time to eat ham, potatoes and broccoli — the perks of living with my mom. Then I went to my room to get some writing done.

I am trying to get an agent, submitting to agencies every day. I read fifty pages or so today. I am almost finished with my new novel Impressions of Suburbia. I want everyone to try to read it — I put a lot of work into that novel and want people to read it. In the meantime I will continue to blog about my life and the reality of living with a crippling mental illness.

Thanks, and take care, friends.