I call myself a dumb retard because I was mute (dumb), for longer than your average child and suffered some social retardation. The term ‘dumb retard’ doesn’t bother me because I see the term as an accurate assessment. Talking has always frustrated me and as a child, I often thought about cutting my vocal chords to relieve the frustration. Eventually, I learned to fake normalcy to the casual eye but inside I’m a freak. Doctors have never been easy to deal with and I’ve grown wearier over time. Writing under an alias allows me to voice my frustration, but my frustration has harshened my voice and probably killed any chance of getting a literary agent.

Depression hit hard and I stopped editing my novel because I low concentration levels might screw up my edits. The difficulty in earning an income from writing doesn’t inspire optimism — consider this report in Forbes:

According to data from a new survey from Digital Book World and Writer’s Digest, the median income range for self-published authors is under $5,000 and nearly 20% of self-published authors report deriving no income from their writing.Dec 9, 2013
How Much Money Do Self-Published Authors Make? – Forbes
http://www.forbes.com/sites/…/2013/12/…/how-much-money-do-self-published-authors-make/
I hate both political parties and seeing all the White Elitist Liberals in the literary agencies aggravated me as much as my fight with a Republican about the idiocity of George Bush Jr. Many times, I have referred to Obama as having Bush for brains because I didn’t consider him any better. Posting stuff about literary agents and agencies is a good way to get blackballed and I stopped thinking about an agent after one agent pulled my final straw. Zora Neale Hurston hated White elitists and didn’t care for some of her fellow African-Americans in the literary industry; I have much more reason to hate White elitists considering my mixed ancestry who rave about Obama’s half White ass but seem to see too much White filling, in my mestizo ass.
I’m left with very little hope, but I dawdle out ideas about the third book. From the beginning, I had somewhat of a ‘publish after I’m dead’ perspective. The freak in me makes thoughts of popularity awfully disdainful.
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