I’ve been debating what to write for days now—thinking about it for months. Five years ago I decided to move from non-fiction to fiction. I wanted to write a novel. I was not involved with any writing groups, or had attended any conferences or used any social media.
But as time went on, I began to connect with other writers. As months and years passed, I wrote novel after novel, garnishing maybe a partial or full request. I actively participated in every way I could in the writer’s world. Soon, the writers I began bonding with were being offered representation and book deals. Their success pushed me to continue in my own quest.
Someday, I told myself.
More and more, the quest became about the ability to pump out a book as fast as I could and send it in.
It’s no wonder I’m where I am today.
Overwhelmed. Let down. Discouraged. Ready to call it a day.
This is totally not me. And therein lies the problem.
I have allowed myself to join in the rush to the altar of publishing so deeply that I have lost my way. The joy I once felt about writing has disappeared. I don’t even have anything worthwhile to blog about writing. And that part frustrates me.
What does this mean? For one thing, it means the book I’m currently editing might take awhile. Then I will reevaluate what I’ve done to my goals before I do anything else.
When I think back to the first book I ever wrote and the excitement that came with it—I want to cry. I didn’t have a clue how hard it is to write a good novel back then. I just had a story burning to be told.
So today I’m telling this story. Someone once said Life is not about the destination, it’s about the journey.
I’m going back to the beginning to find that joy. How about you? Have you ever had to stop to do a U Turn in life?