Recently, someone asked me why I chose to be a writer. The cocky answer: because I’m good at it, isn’t entirely true. I’m a writer because I chose not to ignore the seeds in my imagination that were always floating around. The whole “good at it” ebbs and flows, depending on the day. Sometimes way more ebb than flow, but I keep at it. That’s what catapults me out of a this-is-a-hobby mentality into serious writer. I spend time, money, and uber-amounts of effort to learn and grow in the craft.
The world tells writers we are only successful once we’re published. Not true, and I’m speaking from experience here, my first published book came out last year. Every time I find a surprising thread in my plot that keeps a story going, makes me smile for days. Finish a book, and I’m dancing around the house. Sure they’re private victories, but they keep me coming back to write more. And coming back is more than half the battle.