Have you ever had a moment of self-loathing? I mean, an all out, what in the world was I thinking when I started this project I don’t even like this kind of drivel moment? I have. I recently decided that I would put some research into seeing what people are reading these days and try to write a book to cater to that audience. Okay, so I know what you are thinking right…what a sellout. Well, guilty as charged. I was curious about the idea of having a best selling book. I’ve had one of my books make it pretty close to the top. I wanted another one. So I started writing a book that I thought would appeal to the masses in the chosen genre and guess what? I HATED IT! Big surprise.
Somewhere between reading what I had already written and imagining how much better it could be if I hadn’t written it with the intention of selling it to other people I had an epiphany. It wasn’t a clouds-parting-ray-of-heavenly-light-moment or anything, I just suddenly realized that I don’t write for anyone else. I write for me. I didn’t become a writer because I wanted other people to read my work or buy my books. I became a writer because I wanted to get the whatever it was inside me that was making me restless and driving me crazy out onto the paper. Writing is kind of like breathing in my opinion. I may not always feel like it but I couldn’t live without it.
So, here is my advice to all of you who are worrying over what to write or how to write it or who will buy it or whatever else you might be worried about. Just write. Just do what you do and don’t stress about the what ifs. Unless you are writing to just sell books and make a living…in that case just ignore me.
What have I done with all this suddenly gained internal knowledge that I was being an idiot? I have gone back through my manuscript and taken out all the stuff I thought would make it squeeze into a different category and added all the things I wanted to put there in the first place.
I don’t love it yet, but I don’t hate it anymore either.
Who do you write for?