I am not a leper, but parts are wearing out and falling off.
I am thinking more and more about death and dying and the end of the world often enough to become a depressing person to be around.
The only novel I seem to be able to make regular progress on is The Haunted Toy Store. And it’s full of ghosts.
My books are beginning to sell occasionally on Amazon. But my blog views, Twitter followers, and author friends willing to talk about writing have all gone downhill.
I have an overall sinking feeling, and it is getting worse.
Catch a Falling Star 
I know that feeling. I spend half my mornings trying to convince myself my words matter. Or is it me that matters? Whatever.
It always feels like nobody is listening. But you heard me, and I heard you. Nobody knew about Franz Kafka until after he was dead. H.P. Lovecraft and Jane Austen were little known during their lifetimes. But they are essential to world literature now. So, hopefully the writer’s blues will pass for us both.
I blame our culture. Nowadays, the only thing getting people’s attention are memes, anything with a picture. Simple words. I won’t do it.
Your words have a heartbeat. Even the subtext bleeds.
I look forward to reading more of your posts.
Thank you for being a thoughtful reader. Readers like you are rare. My eyesight is failing, but I will be reading more of what I can find of yours too.