There are times when I forget why I write, times when I doubt myself and wonder if I’m just writing because of some misguided fantasy about “being an author”. And to be honest, there’s a part of me that does fantasize about it: the little writing cottage, the awards, the fan mail, meeting other authors and being one of the cool kids. But that’s not why I write. And I don’t do it for the money either (though money is nice!).
This is why I write:
- Because my mind is a net collecting weird, sparkly, magical stuff, and I need to do something with all of it.
- Because I woke up this morning with a twist for the end of the CIRCUS books that fit so perfectly I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before this. It’s those moments when the story suddenly feels real. It’s not just a spattering of words flung out of your fingertips. It’s alive. It knows what it wants to be.
- Because when I finished my newest revision of CIRCUS last night, I still loved the book. I loved writing it, I loved meeting those characters and exploring their world. Sure, I hope readers will get to see it someday and that they will love it too. But right at this moment, when it’s still (mostly) my book alone, I am content. Whatever else happens, I am so glad I had the chance to write this book. For me.
Of course, part of the reason I am posting this is so I can look back at it later if I fall into the depths of despair and remind myself of what is really important. Because it is SO easy to get lost in the sea of amazon rankings and sales and reviews and web presence. But none of that is worth anything without a story you love, a story you have to tell.
On a tangential but important note, anyone interested in promoting a love of reading might be interested in this posting at The Reading Zone, which in turn is about this post at Musings of a Book Addict. I am grateful to all the teachers and librarians out there who are working so hard to try to help kids see reading as something that can be fun and rewarding, not just rote, unpleasant busywork.Tags: circus galacticus, reading, writing