Today was yet another trying day for me. More car issues and pressure from the family. By family I mean my mother. If you’ve been following me for a while you know how it always goes. I get depressed.
So here’s what happened. I’m sitting down, sipping on a warm cup of my favorite coffee, and reading over some stuff I’ve written over the past few days. She comes in and asks me why I’m even writing if I’m not publishing anything. Of course I went back at her with a smart remark, but I later questioned myself. Why do I write?
I write soley for myself. Not only to keep myself at peace, but to create the books that I would want to read. For me my writing is my outlet, and it’s fun to create the new worlds and characters. No I haven’t published anything as of yet, but I’m building a backlist. I WILL publish. Maybe not now, not next week, but I will. When I do I won’t be in it for the money, I’ll be in it for me.
Now that begs the question my friends, why do you write?
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