I like anonymity.
At this point, I’ve received so many disparaging comments about wasting my life as a stay-at-home-mom, I don’t want people to think that there’s any hope for me.
As a woman, I don’t believe that I’m obligated to prove my value as a person through masculine evaluations of quantities and numbers. I am not defined by a paycheck. My worth is found in the joy and beauty I offer to the world, and that includes raising happy, well-adjusted children. God knows the world needs more happy, well-adjusted people in it.
So don’t chain me down with your money. *spits*
I get a perverse delight over how upset random strangers get when they learn that I don’t lift a finger to earn a dime. I love flaunting that I’m wasting my life and smratness right in their ugly little faces. Ooo! You can’t do a thing about it! Ha ha!
You’re all like, “What a second, don’t you self publish on Kindle?”
Yes, yes I do.
I’ve discovered that I struggle a huge amount with posting chapters weekly, even when the novel is completely finished and all I have to do is copy-n-paste. While I was contemplating what to do about this problem of mine, Kindle was the word that kept repeating over and over in my mind, so that was that.
ANYway, the problem is anonymity is that, while it protects me from people getting all pushy about monetizing and whatnot in real life, it also prevents me from doing other things. Like posting an author photo and utilizing YouTube.
I do want to find readers, and I like quirky methods.
I might shed the invisibility cloak soon. Tell my mom what I’m up to and all that.
But only because I love you and I want to find you. We’re kindred spirits, you and I.