Nothing pleases me more than watching Writer after Writer who I know walk away with book deals and various publications and agents approaching them and all of that. And I can’t help but wonder – why can’t I make myself want that more?
I definitely have enough content kicking around to polish and pimp some sort of book. But the more I think about it, the more I realize, it’s the moments where words flow from my fingers that keep me driven… not the idea of someone with a bible of contacts and some money in the bank saying, “Ummm… hey. We like your words too…”
I reckon when I first started off with my daily banter back in 2009, I really was motivated by getting published. I thought it would solve my problems, make me happy even. Who knows. Maybe one day it will.
And I’ve done it all by myself.
I don’t want to change who I am. I don’t want to change how I write to hit a goal that comes with no guarantee. I don’t want to compare myself or my work with anybody else’s, I already realize I’m just a basic reflection of the same source as the rest of us.
I do, however, know that something in my life has to change. My moods are a bit of a worry lately. I’ve been saying less of how I feel and more of what I think people want to hear.
I know most of the best parts of me are 10 000 miles from here. I only have to suck up a few more weeks. Once my heart is placed back in its spot, we can reassess.