One question I get asked a lot is how many books I’ve written. I usually have to take off my shoes and borrow someone else’s hand to finish my tally, so I know it’s a lot.
I also know it isn’t easy writing.
Once upon a time I believed writing would get easier. I’ve met folks who’ve written 50+ books and they say the same thing. Nope, it never gets easier.
In many respects it gets harder as good writers continue to learn their craft and seek ways to improve their storytelling ability. Other times it’s that damn internal editor who gets in the way of putting words on the pages, until either the characters or music drown the editor out.
Then there are forces outside of the writer’s ability. Belonging to many communities of writers, I hear the horror stories. After decades with one publisher, a line folded and an author had to reinvent herself from scratch—new name, new genre, new everything.
It’s like a witness protection program for writers.
And it sucks.
I’ve been writing for publication since 1997 (yes, that is last century), and I’ve lost so many folks along the way who’ve given up and just quit. I’ve wanted to give up and quit. Reading books is so much easier than writing them. And now, I’m about to lose one of my inner circle because her publisher of a decade rejected her latest and she needs a break. An extended break. And to support her, I have to step back and let her deal with what she needs to deal with and be there if/when she decides to come back.
I understand why some just stop writing.
I know one day I’ll stop writing.
I just hate that life is culling the herd of my writing friends. But like is about change and surviving is about adaptation.
And I will survive (insert Gloria Gaynor music here) until it kills me.