Someone
once asked me why I choose to be a writer. The cocky answer: because I’m good
at it, isn’t entirely true. I’m a writer because I choose not to ignore the
seeds of imagination that are always floating around in my head. The whole
“good at it” ebbs and flows, depending on the day. Sometimes way more ebb than
flow, but I keep at it. That’s what catapults me out of a this-is-a-hobby
mentality into serious writer. I spend time, money, and uber-amounts of effort
to learn and grow in the craft.
The
world tells writers we are only successful once we’re published. Not true, and
I’m speaking from experience here, my first published book came two years ago.
Every
time I find a surprising thread in my plot that keeps a story going, I’m
smiling for days. Finish a book, and I’m dancing around the house. Sure they’re
private victories, but they keep me coming back to write more. And coming back
is more than half the battle.
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