Why do I write?
Do you ever ask yourself that question? As the rejections pile up, the royalty checks disappear (I'm sure they got lost in the mail), and publishers change their minds, I find myself wondering, why am I doing this to myself.
I try to stay away from my computer. I clean closets and practice the piano. I exercise and clean the fridge. (Ew, gross. How long has that been in there?) I pull weeds and pick tomatoes, and I call a friend.
Who needs it? I ask myself. Who needs to check their email every fifteen minutes? Who needs to be connected to facebook 24/7? Who needs author central? Who needs one more nice rejection letter? (You're a talented writer, but...)
But wait, I have voices in my head. Ideas are knocking around in there. Stories are bubbling all around me, inside of me. I'm all for clean closets, sonatas, tidy gardens, and good friends, but something inside me loves to write.
Rejection stinks, but writing clears the cobwebs from my mind. Writing feeds me. Writing is my dessert. (sugarfree of course)
Who needs it? Apparently I do. I can't stop writing.