Friday, June 12, 2009
Lately, my life has come to a crossroads. I have to decide what it is I'm going to do about writing. I'm either going to grip the bull by the horns, so to speak, and get on the ball; or I'm going to stop writing and put away all the manuscripts that are piling up that need revisions.
I've grown tired and somewhat depressed, and I'm ready to quit. I don't normally think of myself as a quitter. Sometimes I am liable to be lazy, but I usually get things done.
But in contemplating the past two years of writing and what's been produced, I have had to take a deeper look at my abilities. Am I really capable of writing something worth publishing? Can I write anything at all that isn't full of holes and need lots of revisions before it's even suitable for submission? I don't know anymore.
The sinking empty hole in my stomach informs me that I'm not ready to give up writing yet. There's too much of my soul wrapped around the written word for me to toss it all aside.
I figure there are more people like me out there -- I know I'm not that unique or special among the society of writers. What is it that kept you at it when the hour seemed the darkest? Why was it worth it to keep plugging away at the keyboard when there didn't seem any use in it?
I guess my motivation is that I feel something would slowly die inside if I pushed that part of me away and locked it up. I also don't want to give my children an example of quitting -- perhaps they will learn from this struggle I am having and do better.
Somewhere there has to be a silver lining.