The Pain of Hope
Even the smallest scams are not without victims
These last few days have been some of the worst of my life. And the blows keep coming.
I made a living at writing one year, and it was awesome. Then I lost it all, and then I developed fibromyalgia.
The City and the Dungeon was my most successful book, and it has remained so. But I burned out on it horribly. I was not quite ready to make a living from writing, and the stress of sudden fame and more money than I had ever seen in my life wrecked my life. My struggles with a porn addiction became much worse, and the stress torpedoed my relationship with my then-girlfriend. It all fell apart, and I didn’t release another book for years.
When I did release the sequel, The War Throughout the Dungeon, the LitRPG market had changed. I was no longer a big fish in a little pond, but a larger-than-average fish in a substantially bigger pond. The era when people could write awful stories and still sell loads of copies had been replaced with one where quality was king—and although my books were quality, they had far greater competition in 2020.
But both I and my publisher had expected C&D1-level success. When it didn’t materialize, we were both taken aback, and what may always have been unwise financial decisions on my publisher’s part suddenly became very unwise. And I felt total guilt for all of it—guilt that I had not written a good enough book, that I had wasted the opportunity I had, even that I had included parts that offended some readers. All awful feelings, on top of what I then did not know was the chronic pain of fibromyalgia.
I had gone from thinking of myself as a successful author ready to write a lengthy masterpiece to a slightly successful author who could only get out of bed on good days. “Devestated” would be putting it mildly, and meanwhile the world outside was getting worse, and worse, and worse…
But I must go a bit farther back for the next part.
I often daydream of stories, and in 2017 one of my idle daydreams came more and more alive. I will not tell it—it’s still a spoiler for The Heart of the Witch-Queen—but it was gripping. Lynn (then known only as Lyn) was born. Although I do not remember my exact feelings, my commit message for the first draft seems to hint that even then I realized the story was special.
But then (as I did many stories in 2017) I burned out, got stuck, and moved on to other projects. Yet I never forgot Lynn’s story. I would sometimes imagine her in other worlds, even (at one point) a later C&D book. I didn’t know if I should write a book on marriage when I had never been in a serious relationship. But I couldn’t get the story out of my mind, either.
2021 did not go any better, though I had high hopes. I had written a second book at the same time as C&D2, The World of Wishes. And this time I had an idea.
NFTs were all the rage back then. Why not capitalize on them? I decided to turn my novel into an NFT, as it already had crypto-themes. I would release the story for free, I thought, and then it would go viral, and then the NFT would be very valuable, paying for the “lost” copies.
I was so focused on this idea, and the promise it had—success without the need to fight my way in a difficult market—that I gained tunnel vision. I ignored people who were geniunely trying to help me in favor of the one thing I wanted most: success.
I finally released The World of Wishes, having taken out a loan (surely to be repaid soon) as the world’s first cryptomedia novel. I was on top of the world. I had done something no one else had ever done before in the history of the world.
But I hadn’t.
Or at least, it depends on who you ask. The author of an earlier book known as Hoperunners of Gridlock had more or less the same idea. He released the book under a Creative Commons license and sold NFTs based on it, although he did several NFTs as opposed to one.
This would have been fine if my book had gone viral. It didn’t. While it “sold” a number of books on the first day (that is, free downloads) there were no actual purchases. And word did not spread. Eventually the book became forgottwn, and even quicker the NFT.
Then NFTs went from that cool weird thing to not merely cringe, but a target for bullying. I was caught in the backlash and called a scammer by strangers who had never even seen what I had made.
What followed was the darkest period in my life, darker even than today. I was struggling with a spiritual crisis, which I had sought spiritual direction from a priest for, only to have said priest hurt me so badly I seriously considered leaving the Catholic Church. My hopes and dreams were dissolving, and I was in constant, unabated physical and emotional pain from the fibromyalgia.
I finally ended up in the psych ward, mostly by accident. I got on better medicine, and that made life bearable. I swore I would never let my mental health deteriorate so badly I would end up there again, although I still suffered greatly no matter what I thought. I resolved never to consider suicide an option again, and tried to follow the one remaining hope left in my life:
The Witch-Queen.
The Heart of the Witch-Queen had been in progress in the midst of all this, specifically my first attempt, My Wife, the Witch-Queen. I didn’t know how to write a romance novel, so I ground forward without knowing what I was doing wrong, with little success. Eventually, I had hit a block and had to scrap the plot and start over. (For context, the entirety of My Girlfriend, the Witch-Queen would have fit into three chapters in the original, failed draft.)
But I was undeterred. Something felt like God wanted this book, as opposed to others. I had never had so many doors open for a book. Whenever I would need someone with some specialty or some knowledge, along would come someone to help me in that area. More, my alpha readers helped me every step of the way, sharing their lives to make it not merely a good book, but a great book.
Something felt different about this book, and I realized it had the spark of what makes a story a bestseller, as opposed to merely another book on the shelf.
In 2022 I finished the first draft of My Girlfriend, the Witch-Queen, although I had run out of time to publish it that year. Instead, because I had been learning how to market, I decided to try my hand with a different book, The Last Tribune.
It didn’t do well either, though I hadn’t had huge hopes for it. It was a test run, and the next year, I told myself, I would finally have success again.
The first part of 2023 was spent getting ready, as well as dealing with another rough breakup. I had attempted to stack the deck for the Witch-Queen, but one part after another went awry, leading to a chaotic scramble to the finish line.
But one thing did work right. Users of the Wide for the Win Facebook group had encouraged me to try BookBub. I applied for the BookBub New Releases for Less (not the massive BookBub Featured Deals, which are far more expensive.) Every day I prayed, begging God that this, this would be the spark that would set my career ablaze.
And guess what? I got the deal! I was so overjoyed I literally ran around my living room. I felt everything was right with the world.
But I didn’t know. And so I had prayed extraordinarily hard for my book to succeed. After all, God had blessed it so much so far. I had put so much of my heart and soul into it. And I had reason to believe it was God’s will, objective reasons.
The Sunday before release, I went to Mass and begged God. I went and lit votive candles before both the Mary-statue and the Joseph-statue. I asked all my friends and family to pray, and did everything I could.
Finally, May 1st came. The book launched and sold some copies.
Some.
But only some.
No great, runaway bestseller.
To say I was crushed would be an understatement, but I still had hope, despite it all. I kept going. I decided I would find some way to market the book, whatever it took to make it a success. Just because God had not immediately blessed it did not mean he never would.
I will not go deep into details, but suffice it to say I had hope not merely in some general goodwill of an abscent god, but a specific word that I kept in my heart, no matter what. Had it been fulfilled? No. But could it be fulfilled? Yes.
And so I kept the faith. Weeks passed into months, then I did more research. I decided, in the end, to try my hand at a direct sales store. I called it Flaming Sword Books.
2024 was another rough year. In addition to election stress and polarization, I had decided to try to finish The OSIRIS War before the election, and my financial situation drastically worsened.
I experimented with Facebook ads, email marketing, and even TikTok, all with only little bits of success. I could sell one or two copies, and occasionally copies would sell on their own. But I could never make it a cost- or time- effective way to market. Had I a longer series, that could work, but a longer series might be many years in the future, and my financial situation had gotten so bad there would not be years in the future.
I still had hope. But it was dwindling.
Finally, I forced The OSIRIS War out the door two weeks before the election. I had catharsis, and then took a break out of exhaustion. I knew it wouldn’t sell well—it’s a weird book—but I felt God wanted me to publish it. So I did.
Somehow, it’s actually sold more than I expected. I’m baffled—but it still hasn’t paid for the cost to make it.
And all the while my savings continued to dwindle.
And now 2025. Things are still going wrong, but I still keep the faith in God’s promises. Over the last few days, things have gotten the worst they’ve been for a long time.
Not because things went wrong. But because things went right.
Weather aggravates my fibromyalgia, so on top of the freakish weather we’ve had over the last few days, there had been significant drama among close friends over the last few days. I had decided to take an early night when suddenly, I heard the cash-register chime of the Shopify app. Someone had just bought a book.
I was thrilled, and even terrified. This was the first sale in months. I had pleaded with God that if he were to bless me, he would do so in a way that didn’t cause anxiety on the way in—for example, a Shopify sale out of nowhere. And that had just happened.
But I had been on rollercoasters before. I decided to put it out of my mind.
The next day, I had just finished talking with my Saturday critique group when I heard another chime. A second sale on Shopify! For whatever oddball reason, they warned me it was high-risk for fraud, but I decided to fulfill it anyway, after there didn’t seem to be anything obviously fraudulent.
On Sunday, I was a nervous wreck, and was pleading with God at every spare moment, and asking others to do the same. Was this really the blessing I had been praying for for over five years?
No sale that day. But as I felt bitter towards God, I decided to check the retailers. No sales there, either. But why not examine Shopify’s analytics closer?
I generally detest AI assistants, but Shopify’s AI was genuinely helpful, walking me through the possibilities until it causally mentioned that there had been ten abandoned carts in the last two days. That is, at least ten people had considered buying my book and then decided against it.
This was incredible news. Not only was I getting the oddball sale, but somehow my book must have finally gone viral! I rejoiced, and decided to investigate further on Monday.
And on Monday it all came crashing down.
Small clues started adding up, and then I learned the truth from the bot.
It was all fraud.
The book hadn’t gone viral. There was no surprise blessing. It had all been a scheme by some scammer testing stolen credit cards. There was never any sales, and I had to refund the “sales” I had received.
And now I come to today. I’m still worn out from all of this.
Yet even now, I have not despaired.
Even now, I believe God can somehow make this work.
I will keep the faith. I will keep going. Even if there is no hope of God fulfilling my prayers, that does not mean he cannot. I will hope against hope, I will trust even if others break my trust. I know God is faithful. And even if I am disappointed, even if I am disappointed in him, I know he will not disappoint me in the end.
And this is not the end. It may feel that way, but I am alive, so there is still hope. God will answer, I know not how, and even if I do not know why I am suffering in this life, I know I will be at peace after this.
And so I still have hope.
This was a very brave share on your part and thank you for it. The indie writing world is extremely difficult, and I don't think enough people see the pain and disappointment behind it.
Thank you for sharing so vulnerably. I continue to support you and your work whatever the timeline may be for any other works you produce. I'm so sorry you experienced a scam. It's not right or fair.