It’s no secret that my ultimate dream is to be a novelist, as in making all my money from writing books rather than the 9 to 5. But until that happens, I have to work a regular job to make a living. The lucky part is that my job still revolves around writing. The bad part?
It revolves around writing.
After writing dozens of short articles a week, it takes its toll on the creative writing I want to get done. Two weekends ago I began writing the novel I’ve been planning out for the last month. I got a good 3,000 words in over two days time. And then I set forth the best intentions to write a little each day so I could have a rough draft finished by the time the wedding rolled around. One and a half weeks later, I still have 3,000 words.
I meant to wake up early every day to write a little bit before work. But I’d accidentally on purpose never set my alarm early enough. By the time I come home from work, the distractions mount up and I make excuse after excuse about why I shouldn’t even open my computer and start typing. The truth is, after a full 8 hours of writing about events around Sonoma County, making our entertainment website purty, and publishing other people’s articles on the web, the last thing I want to do is type away on my book – even while simultaneously wishing I could be doing JUST THAT with no distractions around me at all.
That’s why I feel like I have no right to be consumed by the green-eyed monster when I see local authors presenting their newly published novels around the county. But I totally am. I feel like it should be me in that smiling picture, holding a hard bound book with my name on it.
I think the biggest thing it comes down to is fear. I want this so bad I can taste it. But I’m so afraid to create a finished product in case it fails miserably, or I discover I’m really no good. What happens if I finish one of my rough draft novels and present it to various agents, only to be told its utter crap? It’s likely to happen, as it’s happened to many now-published authors. But I’m not sure I can handle it.
And then there’s that – making the feat of publishing a novel seem so far out of my reach. Regular people have written amazing books. I’m a regular person too, and I feel in my heart I’m capable of this too. But I keep placing this goal high up on a pedestal, ranking it up there with winning a Gold in the Olympics or becoming royalty.
It’s just a damn book, Crissi.
At any rate, this is me – a totally jealous, procrastinating, frozen in my own fear unpublished author. I better do something about changing that label quickly before it sticks…..