Okay, so, I don't know if y'all noticed, but all of the entries but one were from Boise for the new books. Hmm, I guess that means I'll have to see if I have a book that you guys might want.
emfawcett - gets to pick YA or Middle Grade
Everyone else on the list- you guys live around here, so come to my house and choose which book you want. Seriously. I have some new books you can take a look at.
As for the rest of you- are you ready for summer? I am. So ready.
We've been getting these half committed days that act like a combination of winter and spring. Choose one already! Of course, by that I mean choose summer.
Considering the weather nationally though, I'm not going to complain.
But this does bring me to the topic of commitment.
What does it mean to be committed to writing?
For me it means a few things.
First, to write in spite of everything. This one is the hardest. To write in spite of everything means that no matter how many times I get a rejection letter or watch my books NOT sell, I keep writing. In the face of failure, I write. When I'm sure I'm probably a washed up wanna be, I write. When I've convinced myself that I never really had a gift with words, just a lucky moment here and there, I write. When I don't believe a single encouraging word I've said to someone else, or that someone has said to me, I write. When I've finally decided I should just give the whole thing up... I'm still shaking my head... I write.
In spite of the fact that there is not one shred of proof that all the hours I spend on this craft will ever end in success, I write.
Second, to write because of everything. I know this sounds like a close cousin to the first reason, but it feels different to me. Given all the discouragement listed above, I can not keep the stories from following me around. I can't help but notice the rare perfect moments when the world feels right. It's impossible to ignore the fact that maybe all I need is to keep writing because one of these days I might get it right. Life creates moments that beg to be used in a story.
And what if I didn't write? Would the stories in my head slowly sink into the ground and leave me alone? Would I feel as though my life was profoundly more fulfilling having escaped the flood of rejections that writing necessarily causes?
I ask myself these questions all the time. The problem is I am pretty sure giving up wouldn't end in happiness.
It seems the only way to be happy is to be miserable. Or maybe one has to go through the misery to get to the moments of sheer joy.
Whatever it is, I haven't successfully talked myself into quitting, and I've been trying really hard to lately. I want to be happy. There has to be a way to strike a balance between the heartbreaks of never reaching goals and the satisfaction of knowing that persistence will win in the end.
17 hours ago