I Think I Can
This is my very first blog. So, what do I talk about? The kids are home so I could talk about them--nah. I could blog about my dog and two cats since my little dog is whining at my feet as I type and one of the cats is pawing at the door to get in—nah. Maybe I’ll write about “time” because there just plain isn’t enough of it--nah. I could write about the fact that I’ve been writing for more than a decade and not selling and how the frustration of not selling has made it harder to write. Yeah, I bet I could write a lot about NOT writing--about the doubt that has crept inside of me over the years and curled its invisible fingers around my brain, crippling my muse and causing me to have severe writers block for the first time since I started writing. When I finished my first novel years ago I really thought I would be a published author within a few years. I was 36 or 37 (can’t even recall for sure because it has been SO long). I gave myself a goal. I would make that first sale before I hit 40. And then, just like that, within the blink of an eye, I turned 40. And I hadn’t sold. I was bummed, but I was still SO focused and energized and determined to write AND sell that it didn’t bother me too much. I forged onward. Besides, I had heard enough writing war stories by then to know that it might take a little longer than I first thought. I loved my stories and I was SO sure I would sell at any moment that I had everyone around me believing it too. While raising four kids I have finished five books and at least a half dozen proposals. Not too impressive, but not bad for a slow writer like me. What worries me though is that I have not finished a book in over two years. I believe hitting the decade mark of being an unpublished author was my own personal kiss of death. Finishing a book and getting to “the end” doesn’t sound so great anymore. Why bother? Who the heck is going to want to buy it? That’s the big question. Okay, so much for writing the inspiring and positive blog I intended to write. But at least I’m writing. And I’m almost to the end! Maybe I CAN finish another book after all. “I think I can. I think I can.” Maybe if I start thinking positive again, I can conquer this demon. Maybe, just maybe, if I sit my butt in this chair and write day after day I will finish another book. I did it before, and that means I can do it again, right? And I’ll sell that damn book. Just watch me! Wow, writing this blog ended up being quite therapeutic. Thanks for listening.