Literary Suicide?

I’ve put up all my stories, posted all of them, in their entirety on a free website, for the whole world to look at and read, free of charge.  I don’t have much choice, since I want to get the word out about what I have to say, unless I write it down and pass it around for nothing.  The world has a really big stigma against mental illness, and I want to do something about that.  I want to get the word out there.  My creative writing professor at college blew his brains out after I graduated.  He had a problem he didn’t understand how to solve.  He needed help that I didn’t know how to give it to him.  I didn’t realize his problem was as bad as it was.  This illness I’m talking about is a killer.  I want to get the word out.  I’ve done it, too.  Go to, and see what’s there.  That’s my whole portfolio.

There goes my whole writing career, out the door for free.  Enjoy it.

I’ve been writing this way on my blog for awhile, and now I’ve published all my work.  I shot my whole wad there.  I got really discouraged about how things were going, and went ahead with all the downloads, just to make use of what I’ve already written.  I did all of them.  I have no idea what the world is going to think of all this, but I’m grateful to be getting readers.  As a matter of fact, I’ve gotten over 260 readers, over my entire portfolio, in the past seventy two hours.  That’s amazing.  What a record!

So why don’t I feel exhilarated?  Well, I do.  But at first, I kind of felt as though I’d done something wrong.  There are people I know who thought I ought to get paid for my writing, but every time I try to do anything for money, it doesn’t work out.  It happens with everything.  I can crochet as well as anybody’s grandmother.  I can spin a yarn, or tell a tale, as well as any wordsmith.  I can spin a song as well as any songsmith.  But if I try to make money at any of it, it all turns sour on me.  So, people tell me I have a big heart.  You can keep what I do without paying me, and pass it around.  I’d like that.

There were several months there, where I couldn’t communicate at all.  Now, I’m making some pretty obvious mistakes, but at least I can communicate.  It’s progress, not perfection.  I’m still a writer, and I have a new portfolio for free download.  See the link above.  I plan to augment that collection, too.  I’m going to keep writing.  Take your time.  Read as much as you like.  I have to be a writer, like I have to breathe.  When I got sick from taking too much medicine, accidentally, I had all sorts of things to say, but I couldn’t get any of them out of my mouth or out of my pen.

Now, I  offend people sometimes, but that’s just the way it goes.  I’m not setting out to be offensive.  It’s just the way it works out, and I don’t understand why, unless God wants it that way.  I know I’m obnoxious to some people, but then, I feel the same about some people, myself.  My schizophrenia is the way it is, and I just keep going.  I’m never going to give up, as long as my body functions.  Even if I run out of money and have to go live in a state hospital again, I won’t give up.  It’s not worth it.  I want to live until my Maker calls me home to Him.


About geostan51

I'm a wordsmith and a craftsman. I've been known to hand crochet just about anything escept granny squares. I've got about twenty titles in my name on the Kindle Store at
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