First of all, I got the ennui term from Henri, the Chat Noir. Ennui is one of those words I see frequently but that I never seem to be able to remember the meaning of; so I decided to use it more often. If you're like me and sometimes can't put your finger on the exact meaning of a word, ennui means a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest. Boredom, in other words.
And that's what I've been feeling lately, along with jealousy and despondency.
The jealousy is from seeing so many new authors doing well. I want to be wanted, to be the next great author, to be in demand. Which leads to despondency, which is only exacerbated by knowing that there's tons more work ahead of me before I'm in demand, if ever, and that there are literally thousands of authors out there in Indie land, competing with me, all trying to build a market just like me. All wanting to be the next great author. It feels overwhelming at times, seeing all these people pitching their books on Twitter and FB and blogs.
And finally the ennui is a natural result of experiencing the first two for long periods of time. I feel so tired all the time. I hate Maggie at times. I just want to shake her and say, Why can't you figure out your own problems. I have enough of my own. That's the literary schizophrenia leaking out. Because you know what Maggie would say, if she ever got up the nerve to confront me. She'd say, You made me this way, bitch! Okay, she'd think the bitch part. She'd say, You're the boss of me, so make it right.
I'm working on it... I really am. Sometimes I'm drowning in it, but this is going to work if it kills me. [Famous last words!]