I’ve Finally Published It. Yours?

Self-published, that is. I doubt a ‘proper’ publishing house would ever want it. The title? Weeping Ducts. I finally uploaded it to Amazon and now it’s out there for every fucker to criticize.


It took a long time to write, naturally it’s full of errors and the word fuck. But it’s out there, and I wrote it. It’s a wonderful feeling to know that people have actually taken the time to stop and actually read the words that wrote. I'm well chuffed.

Thing is, I was browsing Amazon today, and I couldn’t find yours.

Was I looking in the wrong place? Perhaps I should have been looking in your recent documents folder. Ah, that’s it. You not finished it yet?

Why not?

You haven’t got anything to prove to anybody. If you have written something, chances are it’s about something you care about. It takes passion and determination to sit and write when you aren’t drawing a salary from it. Scared about what people will say? Then don’t tell them. Tell us about it, on here.

Since I published mine, I’ve transitioned from thoughts of worry to now just immense pride in myself. I wrote a book. Fuck yeah. No one can ever take that away from me and the literary confidence it has instilled inside of me.

Now, where were we. Oh, yes.


Robert Mckinstry.

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