Well, it has been a while since I've posted anything here, but I feel like I only have the energy for a quick update today. If I had more energy, I would be writing the article I've researched and submitting it to Helium. Man, that place is so much fun for me . . . and so inspiring.
I wrote a novel eight years ago and had it published. Sometimes I still can't even believe I did it, but I think it broke something in me. Since that time all of my fiction writing has focused on the sale, on getting that rush again. That's no way to write. The writer suffocates when forced to write things that will only sell. There is only so much my writer's heart can take of ignoring my impulses.
This begs the question, though, how does one be a professional writer -- i.e. showing up everyday, cranking out the pages everyday, not waiting on the muse, actually selling something -- if you write on what feels like whim?
I'd like to believe that if something is interesting enough to me to write it then it is interesting enough for someone to want to read it. Maybe it is naive, but why write if you don't think your thoughts and words have meaning or use? There is certain writing for self such as journal and maybe blogs, but I want to write for the public. I enjoyed selling that book and would enjoy selling one again.
I actually did like writing the books, though. I loved getting to know the character and breaking down the story. I liked changing things midway because something else seems to work better. I love that feeling you get when a brilliant solution bares itself to you and is more clever than anything you could have ever come up with. I did like it, so why is it so hard to write a book again?
Writer abuse, I think. I don't focus on what I like about writing the book only on what I like about selling the book. Selling doesn't always happen, but writing always done. Perhaps I focused so much on that rush that I missed the joy of the actual story writing. Really, I don't know that I realized how much I enjoyed the writing itself. Writing is hard, but it is like hammering a metal sheet into a helmet -- you start out with a flat piece that needs to be a rounded piece. Then you bash the hell out of it and sweat and sometimes cry. Then you finish and people are amazed.
I need to remember why I liked writing books to begin with. Story and character are only the top two.