J.D. Cunegan

I love being a writer.

I also hate being a writer.

Because writing is hard. Yes, I mean that in the “anything worth doing is difficult” sense, but also in the sense that, well, writing is fucking hard. And it feels like it gets harder the more I do it.

Sometimes, the problem is me. Sometimes, it’s a matter of craft. Writing is a fickle beast, not easily placated. What works one day leads to the proverbial brick wall the next.

But there are also times when the world around me makes writing needlessly hard. To the point where I can’t help but wonder if it’s an effort to keep some of us from pursuing it. Make the practice of writing, and more to the point publishing, so difficult, so expensive, so burdensome, that some people will simply quit.

I’m not one to don a tin foil hat, but recent developments make me wonder…

You Don’t Have to Help, Just Don’t Get in the Way
Amazon is the self-publishing industry’s 900-pound gorilla, and they often take advantage of that fact (no, I do not want to create audiobook versions of my library using “Virtual Voice.” If and when I make that leap, I will use human voices, thank you very much). But we’re also seeing other outlets self-published authors rely on enacting policies that make life harder for us.

Looking at you, Draft2Digital.

For the unaware: D2D is instituting a fee for new users when they first sign up, as well as a $12/year “maintenance” charge for authors whose royalties amount to less than $100. The reasons for this are nebulous (but kind of sort of maybe amount to “we need help fighting the AI farmbots,” I think), and D2D’s lack of communication surrounding the announcement is, at best, concerning.

But the issue here is not necessarily that D2D has determined it needs to charge a maintenance fee. I don’t know if you all have noticed, but things are expensive these days, increasingly so, and if this is in fact part of D2D’s effort to curtail AI content farming, then I’m all for it. But a) say so, and b) don’t structure the fee so it only hurts authors who are already making the least.

I can handle the $12 fee, since my books aren’t my main source of income (thank goodness). But that’s not the issue here; the issue is that a book distributor that has positioned itself as a champion for independent authors has put in place a policy that will hit the lowest-earning authors the hardest.

And from what I can tell, D2D isn’t doing anything concrete to help make selling books easier. It feels like figuring out how to sell enough to avoid the fee is… up to us.

Shrug emoji.

For the time being, I’m not leaving the platform. Because I pride myself in making my work available in as many different places as possible–including libraries–and as of this writing, I don’t know of any similar service that would accomplish that. I don’t have the time, energy, or wherewithal to piece-meal my publication and distribution channels.

Ultimately, I want to be able to sell my books direct, in both print and digital formats. But I’m not there yet, and it looks like more work than I originally thought, so for the time being…

Why Would You Do This to Yourself?
I didn’t choose to be a writer. I simply… am one.

I don’t mean that in the sense that I think writing is a calling. I do think writing is a calling, but not because writing is particularly special. I simply believe any vocation is a calling. Human beings don’t choose to be the things we are. Not consciously. We are called to whatever it is that stirs within us.

The astronaut who spent their childhood staring at the stars was called to them. The priest who devotes their life to helping the homeless is called to do so. The painter, the engineer, the carpenter… we’re all called to do what we do. Whether it’s God or some other unseen, unknown force, we are guided to our passions. Often without realizing it.

More than once, I’ve been asked why I write. And my answer is simple:

Because I don’t know who I am if I don’t.

An Audience of One (But Hopefully More)
As far back as I can remember, I’ve told stories. Even when it was just me with Ghostbusters or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures, even when I was left to spend countless hours with a pile of Lego, even when a bright sunny day meant I was outside with nothing more than a bicycle and the wind.

Those were all stories. For an audience of one: me.

There was middle and high school me, doodling and creating what, at the time, were comic book characters. I was going to be the next Jim Lee, you know. The next Todd MacFarlane.

There was college me, who discovered sportswriting and sportscasting.

There was young professional me, who paid his bills by recalling the athletic exploits of high school kids, college students and (allegedly) professional race car drivers.

Which leads us to current-day me, author and pontificator on the holistic value of story.

Current-day me, who stubbornly believes the things I have to say matter, even when my sales charts and my social media feeds tell me they don’t. Even when it feels like I’m shouting into the void. Even when it seems like the literary machine wants to put us indies in our place.

But they won’t. Creativity cannot be properly contained. Let the book world put up the barriers. We’ll keep working around them–if not busting them down entirely.

About J.D. Cunegan
J.D. Cunegan is known for his unique writing style, a mixture of murder mystery and superhero epic that introduces the reader to his comic book-inspired storytelling and fast-paced prose. A 2006 graduate of Old Dominion University, Cunegan has an extensive background in journalism, a lengthy career in media relations, and a lifelong love for writing. Cunegan lives in Hampton, Virginia, and next to books and art, his big passion in life in auto racing. When not hunched in front of a keyboard or with his nose stuck in a book, Cunegan can probably be found at a race track or watching a race on TV.

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