Indie Authors & Books discussion

Some days, being an indie author feels like screaming into a void and wondering if anyone will ever hear you.
You question your choices, your talent, your sanity—sometimes all before lunch.
You revise endlessly, second-guess every sentence, and try not to take it personally when your work disappears into the algorithm.
But still, you write.
Because deep down, despite the doubt, there's a part of you that believes the story is worth telling—even if no one’s listening. Yet.
If you’re out there, I’d love to hear how you’re holding up.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about words—not as tools, but as traps.
You begin with the belief that language can capture what you feel, what your characters feel. But the moment you write it down, something vital slips away. The thought shrinks—becomes fixed, limited, smaller than it was. I’m certainly no expert on Wittgenstein, but if I recall correctly from my university days, he said something along the lines of: “The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.” It’s still stuck in my head. And some days, it feels like a personal attack. But I keep writing.