The story starts like this:
I write a story.
It takes me many years to get to a point where it is passable. It takes a few more to make me proud of it. It will take less than one afterwards to realize how far I’ve come since it. But we’re not there yet.
I wrote a story and I thought I wanted to share that story. So I shoved into onto sub-par medium (Amazon Kindle) because I hoped everyone would see my care for it. I hoped and hoped and then it never really came, but I didn’t stop writing and growing. It hurt a little to not get the attention, but my writing didn’t need anyone else’s attention on it because it had my own. So I kept going on until I really asked: Why?
I should stop now. I’m rehashing. I’ve gotten over that hurdle. I’m on the other side. The grass is greener. I’m writing and creating for me.
I’m cultivating my passion as a personal project.
As in personal. Sharing is optional.
What personal means is that I can do whatever I want without considering how many people it could reach or …