Wednesday, September 23, 2015

A Message from my Publisher

Yesterday evening I got an email from Lulu.

"Subject: Why the cold shoulder?
It's Been A While... We've Missed You!
Hi Kristian Attfield,
We've noticed you've been a little distant lately. Is everything okay?...." 

Hmmm. I'm not sure what to think of this. All I know is I've seen pretty much a complete dearth of sales reports, and I got bored constantly visiting their site and finding nothing has changed.

And then today I did a search on Google for something like "How many of my books have been ripped off?" and finding an article or blog post from another author who says the Colbert Report confirmed in 2014 that a certain popular publisher doesn't report or pay to their authors properly.

For the past year or two or however long, I've been telling myself that the money I should be making is being used for something especially righteous and good --- trying to make myself feel better about never ever leaving my parents' basement in their or my lifetime.

I know I'm famous enough that google now has information boxes specifically about my books when you look up The Eagle's Sore or The Book of Finch on Google ---- I'm famous enough that now I have my own little special search result on Google now --- how nice. But not much in the way of money.

I grew up poor. My dad was unemployed for so long ---- the effects are lasting throughout my life, I'm 31 years old now and I've STILL NEVER LEARNED TO DRIVE A CAR.

I mean, so many other people my age learn to drive in their teens and their parents pay for their vehicles, pay for their missions, pay for their university or whatever else ----

but me? I get to be mentally ill because of all the garbage I've had in my life and I never even get to drive a car.

I am stuck in my parents' basement. I've really been trying to get the sales to move on with my life ----

But despite being the smartest kid in school for so many years of my schooling, I NEVER GET TO REPRODUCE ---- people who I KNOW aren't nearly as intelligent as I get to make babies like there's no tomorrow, but me? Does the world want my brains in their gene pool? Apparently not. Wow.


I've tried. I really have. Not being able to transport myself easily to places really limits what I can I do with my life. I've never been able to transport easily because my dad had no work all my teen and adult life and there was no money to even learn to drive, much less afford a car or insurance.


So. Yeah. I've tried. I know I'm famous to at least a few thousand people. For some reason I just appear to "can't have money".

I mean, I think SOMEBODY wanted me to reproduce, why else would Avril Lavigne sing about me? But no, the bishop couldn't allow that.


Ugh. I've been so distant, my psychological issues are clearing up, I'm not thinking like a broken record anymore, I'm even working on another book.

But why would I publish this book if there appears to be no hope of ever getting paid?


It doesn't seem to matter what I do or try, almost always something will go completely wrong -- and people I have to trust are unreliable.

I can't just trust whoever is supposed to pay me to pay me - whether it be the customer or the book company.


I've had two sales of my video games in the past month. Last I checked, the one game I sold was in the 700 section, and the other in the 200 section of the O-Rank. I have TWO GAMES in the HIGH 100s on the O-Rank, yet no reported sales for them.

What is going on here?


It's like my life has been set up for failure. I try and I try and I try but something is always keeping me down.

No idea anymore. I try to be positive, and have a positive attitude, but sometimes the world just looks like absolute crap to me.

Why am I not getting paid? Who knows. Someone just doesn't want me to have money I guess. And it's been this way all my life.

The only way I was able to get money from anyone (the government) was so I could be drugged because of "insanity" (which has now been disproved btw) and so I wouldn't be able to lay claim on Avril Lavigne even though she sings about me.

I mean, people don't want to give me anything. I can only have my limited AiSH Cheque because someone wanted to screw me over. It's just one screw-over after another.

that's life I guess. It's tough.

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