I had a different post written for today, but then decided the topic wasn’t really what was on my mind. What I really want to talk about is passion. Actually, I want to talk about two related passions. The first is the passion for writing. Most of you who read this blog share that one. Some of you participated in my recent survey. One of the questions was whether you feel you were born to write. Some of you said yes. My answer was no.
I’ve always made up stories to amuse myself, but I didn’t feel a compulsion to write many of them down until ten years ago. I wasn’t sure what changed. I was older and had more life experience? My children were grown and I had more free time? I had cycled out of one obsession and needed a new one? Whatever the cause, suddenly I felt a compulsion to write. The more I wrote, the more passionate I became about writing.
But I don’t think the world needs to read my stories. I don’t believe any of my books will ever be considered great literature. I won’t die if I can’t write; I’ll just go back to keeping the stories in my head.
For nine years, even though I loved writing and believed I was good at it, I never sought publication. Now, in the last year, I’ve developed the passion for publication. I want to be published. I really want to be published. Not for money, though of course a little monetary profit would be a definite plus, but I’ve researched enough to know that as a new author, I can expect to make very little money.
What I want … what I need is validation. Here’s the problem: I feel foolish admitting that.
Why should I need validation from the powers that be? I’ve spent my whole as a very private person. In that life, I’m loved and respected. I’m secure in that life. So why open myself up to public judgment? I joke about it, but I have no illusions that I’m writing the next BIG novel. My name will not become a “household word.” Yet, I push forward. This passion mystifies me, yet I can’t deny it.
Do you have the publication passion? Do you know why?