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Its crazy how it takes years to write a really epic novel but weeks to devour it. Like hungry vampires we feast on ideas, emotions and methodologies. Readers truly are vampires. Some demanding authors drop 2 books a year. Like how dare we want to write for a living and actually have a social life? But the readers have become our boss, a powerhungry slave driver. Never satisfied no matter how many words we give them. I wrote a 70K novel but it’s never enough. And then I edited it not to offend my audience. My original audience refused to pay for a book tailored to them. As writers we’re always caught in catch 22s our audiences tend to be ungrateful. To gain something we must sacrifice our Work in Progress. We put our lives on hold to write literature for people we don’t know who probably don’t care about us. We’re the mad ones not them. They’re not in a toxic paranormal relationship where they give more than they take. Readers such authors dry of their intellectual blood and simply reply thats all? We’re not seen as human beings but more as robots or automatons that breathe and eat.