A day or so ago The Golden Eagle made a post in which she asked, “Would you write if you knew you’d never be published?” Of course I thought about it and subsequently replied, but my reply made me think a lot about the role of writing in my life…especially now.
My reply was basically “Yes, but not as much.” More complicated than that, as I will get into further here soon. As most of you know now, I’m recently unemployed (by choice) and living with my parents again (by choice…well, er, kinda. I have money but no income so I don’t feel like wasting my savings, you know? Especially when I still have loans.) I live in a dinky little town in super rural Oregon where jobs are non-existent, and I don’t drive let alone have a car. This means I’ve got a lot of free time. And since my dream has always been to be a successful published author…well guess what I’m working towards full steam now? Yup. Publishing.
So, if I knew by some whim that I would never be published, would I still write? Look, I am not Idealist Hildred. I’m more certainly not Optimistic Hildred. I am Realist Hildred, to the core of my little blackened no1curr soul. No. No I would not. I would be out there hitting the pavement harder than ever, pushing myself into random people’s houses in the valley looking for a 9-5 to make ends meet and find some sort of direction for my financial future. Because writing is my job. It’s my career. Without publishing I don’t have much chance at a good career.
My dream is to not only be successful financially, but successful because people like my work as well. Because they look forward to the next book I want to publish. Without being published I have no future dreams, or at least nothing as strong and important to me. I would still write, of course, because it’s the best, but it would be a back-burner hobby. At best I would write a page a week, instead a few a day. And be pretty miserable at my 9-5, more than likely.
Thank God I’m going to be published, eh?
What about you, in case you don’t follow The Eagle?