I’ve always dreamed of publishing my own novel. Stay at home, write, let the cash flow, make dat good dough, you know, the flow so diggity though, whoa…am I a rapper? The world may never know.
That was weird. Anyhoo, I put A LOT of effort into writing a four-hundred page novel, so I didn’t want to slap it onto some Microsoft Word doc and publish it like that. I wanted it to look professional. Like a pro.
I purchased Adobe InDesign. To this day, I still don’t know how to use it. I even bought a book on how to use InDesign CS5, which was far outdated by the time I finished my novel four years later.
Here lies the problem. I only had so much effort within me to make this book work. I could’ve spent days upon days learning how to use InDesign and become a beast, but that would mean I have less time to write the book. The easy route would be to hire someone to format it for me. But that costs money.
The more time I invested > the more skills I learned > the more things I could do myself > the cheaper self-publishing became. Also, I was a teenager. I had time to waste.
However, time equals energy. I didn’t want to spend even more time learning a new skill. Not after I wrote over a six hundred pages of content.
So I found a Microsoft Word template. Pathetic, right? Well, it looked pretty good. Fingers crossed, if you bought the book, you wouldn’t be able to tell that it was formatted in MS Word.
Amazon has this great program called Createspace, which lets you self-publish and distribute your book through their site. All I needed was a MS Word template that would accommodate Createspace’s parameters, and bam, we have ourselves a published book.
That wasn’t too hard. I did pay my buddy four hundred buckaroos to illustrate my cover. He did a great job, then I muddied it up with After Effects. Huge mistake on my part.
I checked how much money I’ve made over the years from my book sales. About twenty-five bucks. Not bad for six years of work. Four years of writing, two years of editing and self-publishing.
What can I say, that’s one thing off the bucket list. I guess I’m glad I got that out of the way early in my life. If I ever write another novel, it’d be nice to make money off of it. You could say The Mansion was a huge waste of my time, and you wouldn’t be wrong. The way I see it, we’re always wasting time. What really counts as a productive use of time? Making money? Learning new things? Forming relationships? What about the guy who lives his entire life as a bum on the streets, only to save the life of a young, blonde child by pushing him out of the way of a two-ton truck? What if that child grew up to become Donald Trump? Would the bum’s life been wasted or sacrificed for a greater cause?