The journey is everything.
I can’t speak for other authors. I estimate that I’ve met and worked with over a thousand of them. All having different backgrounds and different reasons for writing.
I can only speak for myself.
Writing is my vocation and the only way I earn a living. (Guess the dancing just wasn’t cutting it!) I’m reminded daily how blessed I am to be able to do this. I’m also reminded daily how difficult this profession can be.
At the end of every year, I make new year’s resolutions and goals, filling another writing journal to document the journey. The turn over to 2010 was no different. I already am filling my notebook with plans and promises and prayers.
So why do I do this? Why have I wanted to be a writer since third grade, and why has this passion only intensified as I’ve gotten older?
I write to understand, to make sense out of life.
I tell stories to try to move myself and other readers the same way stories have moved me.
I write fiction to walk in the shoes of other characters living other lives.
I write to try and package some type of hope in the pages of a novel, whether it’s a love story or a thriller.
I write because it’s perhaps one of the only things in this world that appease my undaunted imagination and restless soul.
I write to say the things I wish I had the strength and courage to say, to do the things I wish I had the ability to do.
I write because that’s all I’ve known, truly, since third grade. Some kid scribbling in journal after journal and page after page.
This is my occupation, and with it comes necessities. Facebook and Twitter and blogging about crap nobody really cares about. Booksignings and promotional nonsense that most authors truly detest. The selling of something that feels shameless: not just a story sometimes but your heart and soul.
I’m very fortunate to have gotten my first book published, and to remain in these publishing waters. I try not to take for granted what I do on a daily basis. Yes, it’s work. Any writer will agree—it’s work. But it’s work I’m passionate about.
I’m very excited about this year. There are lots of things to be thankful for, things to look forward to.
For those of you kind enough to read the online scribblings of a novelist, I say thank you.
I promise that I’m going to try and keep getting better, not so that the royalty statements coming in the mail have big fat checks included with them. Yes, that’s nice. And yes, money is necessary. But no—I promise to continue to strive to hone my craft in order to continue this journey I started in third grade.
Why God put this restless tsunami of passion inside my heart at such a young age, I have no idea. One day I plan to ask Him. In the meanwhile, I’ll keep telling as many stories as I can.
I promise you—I have a lot of them.
Happy new year!
Labels: journey, on writing