Today seems to be the first really dreary, rainy day of the summer and I’m missing it here stuck at work. I wish I was at home curled up with a book, or better yet at a bookstore or coffee shop downtown with a book or my laptop. Oh well.
I did another 800 words last night on LUCKY TOWN (any thoughts yeah or nay on the new title?) after I cut out most of the start I had for chapter two, and that brings the grand total to 2000 words. I’m also feeling better about my place in the writing career timeline because, when it comes right down to it, I may never have a career as a writer. I don’t believe the idea that all good works will find a home. If I never make it professionally as a writer, I’ve got to be able to be happy with the actual writing itself. The challenges, the joys, the frustrations, the skill development, etc.
And I think I can be. One of the reasons I was so jolted by my last writing funk was it left me without a direction in my life temporarily. I would go to work and have these large blocks of time with nothing to work on and my job itself is not fulfilling enough in itself and that’s why I like it.
What keeps me going day-to-day is the possibility that I might be able to have a career at this one day. Sure it’s nice to experience little successes here and there, like a short story sale, or an award nomination, or an agent interest, but those can sometimes be worse than failure because it gets my mind off the true goal which is getting better as a writer. Failure fuels me and makes me want to get better and hit markets I’ve missed so far. That’s good. Success can distract me.
So are you happy with the writing?