Whenever I start thinking about my writing future, where my books I’m writing now might fit, I always circle back to one giant fear.

That I’ll never find a fit for my books.

I’ve had two friends lose their publishers. One has jumped full steam ahead into self-publishing. Which is great. It fits her books well and she’s happy there. (At least I view her as happy, despite the setbacks.) The other is still sorting out her best option.

I’ve seen people become very jaded very quickly with the traditional publishing process. I’ve seen them start to diversify their list, some traditional and some self-published work.

I see some friends set a backbreaking pace for themselves in self-publishing.

I see so many paths, none of which feel right for me, for my books, for my personality.

I’m not a fast writer by any stretch of the imagination. I simply don’t have the hours to devote to writing any faster than I do when I’m at my most productive pace. (My most productive pace being 1K-2k per day. On bad days I write 500 words. On extremely good, and rare, days I can write 2K-3K.)

I need to stop trying to fit into the molds others have made for themselves. I know this, but it doesn’t stop me trying. And worrying.

But I know I don’t fit anywhere right now. I’ve never fit in, my whole life. I’ll probably always be the girl no one knows what to do with.