This Choice Might Kill My Stories

I’m tired.

Not of writing — that part of me doesn’t shut off. Never has. Probably never will.

No, I’m tired of the question. The same one that keeps circling like a hawk with nothing better to do.

Do I write the next book?

Or do I keep writing here — short, raw, right-now stories?

Sounds simple, right? But it’s not. It’s never that easy.

Writing a book is like stepping into a cave with a candle and no map. You don’t know what’s waiting. You don’t know if anyone will find you when you’re done. You just go. Alone.

It takes months. Sometimes years. You rewrite, rethink, unravel. And then — maybe — you hand it off to the world, and the world shrugs. Or worse: it doesn’t even notice.

Now compare that to this.

You. Me. Right here. Right now.

I write something. You read it today. Maybe comment. Maybe send it to someone. Maybe it hits a nerve.

Immediate pulse. No waiting for edits or ISBNs or “launch plans.” No silence while I sit in a corner wondering if any of it matters.

That’s the real war: silence versus signal.

So yeah, I’m tired. Tired of trying to predict which path leads to something real. Something lasting. Because honestly? They both might lead nowhere. Or both might lead somewhere. But I don’t get to know unless I walk one.

Right now, I’m walking all three.

Medium. Substack. Vocal.

I throw a line in the water and see what bites. I watch what makes people stop scrolling. What makes someone nod — or flinch — or smile that crooked smile that says, “Damn. I felt that.”

Because here’s the secret no one talks about:

Writers don’t write in a vacuum. Not the good ones.

We write toward someone. Always.

And if no one’s there on the other side?

That’s not writing. That’s talking to ghosts.

So I’m testing this. Not just to figure out which platform works best. But to figure out if it’s worth doing this in real time. To figure out if I’ve been wrong about where stories should live.

Maybe it’s not in a 300-page novel.

Maybe it’s here — stripped down, unapologetic, one heartbeat per paragraph.

But I can’t figure that out alone.

Which is where you come in.

You get a say in this. Actually, you get the biggest say.

So tell me:

Do you want the big book — the slow burn that takes time to build and longer to pay off?

Or do you want the sharp hits — weekly bursts, clean shots of story and thought, real and unfiltered?

You can comment. Click. Whisper. Scream.

Whatever it takes to let me know you’re there.

Because if you vanish — if you scroll away and stay gone —

then yeah, maybe this choice really will kill my stories.

But if you answer?

We just might build something together.

And I think that’s worth risking the page for.