I often proclaim that I write simply because I find joy in the act of writing. It’s a statement I repeat consistently, suggesting that my sole motivation lies in this sense of pleasure. However, deep down, I question whether that is the whole truth.

When I first started writing several years ago, I mainly wrote fanfiction as a hobby and for the sheer enjoyment of it. At the time, I wasn’t seeking any monetary gain from my writing, as fanfiction doesn’t typically generate profits. However, in 2012, I decided to take a few of my stories and self-publish them on Amazon. To my surprise, my first book, which featured a girl/Mistress storyline, earned over $300 in its first month and went on to generate over a thousand dollars over the years. While it wasn’t necessarily a literary masterpiece, it wasn’t shit either.

Presently, I continue to write because it’s a passion of mine. I approach it as a business, investing in editing and refining my work, my ultimate goal is to eventually earn a living as a writer and retire comfortably. However, I often wonder if this is truly what I want. If I had the luxury of not having to work and could spend all day writing, I know I would love it. But at this point in time, I find myself questioning whether this is the path I truly want to pursue.

Throughout my writing journey, I’ve never labeled myself as a great or even a good author, though some may argue otherwise. Recently, I published my latest book and decided to offer it for free. However, it received its first review—a disappointing one-star rating. It seems that a story featuring cannibal lesbians isn’t exactly resonating with everyone or garnering any awards. My wife finds it amusing and applauds me for having the courage to write the story I wanted to tell. Nevertheless, I find myself questioning whether investing time and effort into attempting to sell these unconventional plots is truly worth it in the end.

Receiving a one-star review didn’t actually upset me; on the contrary, I saw it as a badge of honor. However, it did make me contemplate whether I want to keep churning out words solely in an attempt to monetize my writing. Perhaps it’s more fulfilling to simply share these absurd stories with anyone who wishes to read them, without the pressure of trying to profit from them. The idea of freely offering my work to those who appreciate it is starting to appeal to me, as it allows me to focus on the joy of storytelling rather than the pursuit of financial gain.

Here is the official one-star review for Dying To Meat You:

Dying to Meat You is the frantic story of a woman’s love and her indecision about what she can live with.

This story is hectic; very hectic. It felt disjointed and rushed because there wasn’t much downtime between all the action. It was constant foot on the gas, and it made it really exhausting to read. I found it hard to keep up with this because there was just so much going on.

I didn’t really care for any of the characters, and I couldn’t get concerned for any of their well-being. Arianta could never make up her mind about anything and was constantly changing what she wanted and what she was doing. Katherine was an extremely flat character whose only documented traits were sexy and dangerous. The two of them had absolutely no chemistry together, and nobody could seem to figure out what they really wanted to do with each other.

The story itself had an interesting premise, but I don’t think it was executed as well as it could have been. The big reveals were really predictable and telegraphed so early in the book that I didn’t get the shock and surprise that I was after when the reveals happened. Because of that, it was hard for me to fully commit to reading this since I felt like I already knew what was coming.

Swing and a miss for me. As fun as reading about cannibalism is, this one was so detached that I just couldn’t get into it.

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