I’ve been writing for years. I have a hard time expressing
myself in spoken word (not to mention that I get stage fright anytime I have to
open my mouth and speak in public) but give me a pen and paper, or a computer
and keyboard and I can put exactly what I want to be said, and explain
everything that I want to be understood, into written words with little
problem.
I’ve always told stories. I remember being in Jr. High
School and getting on the bus in the morning and telling my friends about the
dreams (even then they were incredibly vivid dreams) that I’d had the night
before. Sometimes I’d write them down in a notebook or my diary, sometimes I
wouldn’t.
In high school I wrote several short stories that my
teachers told me were wonderfully imaginative and well written. In university I
heard the same kinds of comments for my writing.
It wasn’t really a surprise (to me, anyways) when I finally
decided that I wanted to publish. The journey has been long and has had many
detours and road blocks that have crept in the way. Through it all though,
writing was one thing that I knew no one could take away from me. Other’s could
make me feel horrible about myself, to the point that I found it difficult to
even write, but no one could take away my ability to tell a story. Not
completely anyways.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’m back to focusing on
writing (and promoting of other authors’ works as well) nearly full time. I
don’t know what’s different this time but I just know that this time I’m actually going to get to the point where I actually
do publish. Whether I make a name for myself, whether I make money or make
enough money to support myself by writing isn’t important – I really just want
to publish. I don’t know whether I’ll end up publishing by traditional routes
or via self-publishing, but I want to
publish and I’m going to do it.
I want to be able to tell people that my books can be bought
on Amazon, or iTunes, or Kobo, or Smashwords, or whatever. I want to be able to
say “yeah I’ve got 3 published novels”, or “I have 17 novellas available for
purchase.” The money hardly matters, though yeah, it sure would be nice. But
making money isn’t the reason to be writer. It’s not the motivation behind it,
or it shouldn’t be.
Honestly, really, I just want to tell my stories. They’ve
been mine so long and the characters just want to be given the opportunity to
make you love them as much as I do.
So I have to write them. I have to publish them.
Yes, I hope you like them. I hope you love them.
Yes, I hope I make at least a little bit of money – you know
maybe enough to pay the bills and feed my kids.
But the truth is... Whether you like my stories and
characters or hate them, whether I never make a dime and or break even in the
process of publishing, I’m still going to write.
And maybe that’s the difference this time around. Rather
than worry about creating something that everyone else might like or might pay
for, I’m making sure that I’m creating something that I love and something that
I
can be proud of.
Because in the end, that’s what’s really important.
We try to eliminate typos and grammatical errors. We strive
to ensure that John doesn’t mysteriously become Desmond, only to turn back in
to John. We push ourselves to ensure that the timeline of our back-story doesn’t
clash (or *gasp* contradict) with the timeline of the rest of our story. 
