September 10, 2010
Lately, I’ve begun to wonder if I’m working just a little too hard on this writing thing. I spend pretty much every spare moment of every day on it, whether I’m composing new work, searching for new publishing opportunities, working on the business side, promoting my work online, or publishing my own e-books for sale in various formats. This career of mine is literally taking over my life. The fact is, in order to cover the bases, I do need to spend tons of time on it. There’s just no substitute for time and effort, no shortcut (in my case, at least) to success. If I want it bad enough, I have to work hard for it. But once in a while, I step back and take a look at what it’s done to my life, and I wonder if it’s worth it. Relaxation has become a thing of the past for me. Other hobbies and interests have fallen by the wayside. Even my thoughts are constantly occupied with dreaming up new stories or new angles for promoting the work. Sure, I’m gotten a few things published; I’m very satisfied by the creative process. But it has been and continues to be a long, slow road. Sometimes, the quest is enough…and sometimes, I wish I’d never embarked on it. The writing life is all-consuming, overwhelming, and unrelenting. Seven years after I started taking it seriously, I’m still struggling mightily to find that big success. At least it keeps me busy. But maybe that’s not enough.
