Monday, February 4, 2013

Writing for Yourself When You Write All Day

I’ve discovered something not so great about writing, Tweeting, Facebooking, and Pinteresting for other people. I’ve become like the cobbler whose children had no shoes; only I’m the writer whose stories have no endings. Or middles.

I’ve taken to working on my projects in fits and starts, only to become bogged down in work-a-day projects and end up exhausted and playing solitaire at the end of the day because my mind is too trashed to pound out even a paragraph of crappy dialogue.

So now I’m down to figuring out how I can just write something, anything. To this end I’m starting by “just writing something” to post to my blog, which has languished for months.

I follow a lot of wonderful authors who are busy writing, revising, traveling, touring, and giving talks. I know that for most of them there was a time when they had to scrounge even a few minutes a day, before or after work, when the kids were finally in bed or before they awoke, to squeeze in a few paragraphs on a favorite project.  Those who have gone before me are the ones that give me hope that if I just keep trying there will come a day when I’ll be in possession of a completed and polished novel.

What will I do with it when that day comes? I’m not sure. Sometimes I think I don’t want to bother with the struggle to find an agent and a publisher. Other days I imagine myself sitting at a table at Comic-con signing my very own bestseller.  I guess the truth of the matter is that as long as I keep trying anything is possible. After all, following a 12-hour workday I managed to write these five paragraphs . . .


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