Writer Excuses for the Digital Self-Publishing Age
(Or, I can't write because . . .)
Amazon.com paired my book with the diary of a dominatrix who uses the exact same pen name, and now all I get are IMs from guys in diapers who want me to cyberspank them.
I'm too busy promoting my novel on Twitter and Facebook to finish writing it.
Mommy says I can't publish my book until I eat all my vegetables and put away my toys.
My artist says the cover I want is anatomically possible only if she depicts all my characters as squid.
My formatting software got corrupted and now whenever I try to upload a manuscript to Smashwords my disk drive rewrites itself.
My freelance editor refuses to believe that English is my native language.
Pubit! claims the book I wrote about my ex is illegal, libelous, infringing, offensive, harmful, threatening, harassing, legally obscene, defamatory, and intentionally hateful.
Someone posted a 3-star review that utterly ruined my perfect 5-star rating. Was probably my ex, the bastard.
The rights for my next novel haven't reverted back to me yet.
Whenever I enter the ISBN I made up for my last self-pubbed book to check my sales ranking, NORAD automatically goes to Defcon 2.