It’s funny how many people think publishing is a way to get rich quick. Just vomit out a story, send it to a publisher and rake in the dough. Of course, anyone who has tried to query a major publishing house knows that’s not how it works. Unless you know someone in the house, there is about as good a chance of getting your work read as Charlie Sheen winning a good parenting award. You need to query an agent, and more than likely what you thought was a masterpiece is actually a turd sandwich.
Self-publishing is changing that of course. But no one really knows how to make money that way either, unless you have a backlist to sell. So after a little bit of research, most people who write commercial fiction either figure out it’s not worth the hassle and give up or realize they don’t care if they ever get published and do it because it brings them some kind of pleasure. I fit into the latter category.
Don’t get me wrong, nothing would please me more than to be über successful. I doubt I’ll ever write anything that would win an award, but I would love to make a living off of my writing. However if I don’t, it’s not the end of the world. Normally this would not cross my mind when considering my writing. I’m either trying to research a city that the story is taking place in or figuring out how the plot is going to fit together or trying to settle on the exact system my magic works on. But over the last couple of days I have been struck by how much I have wanted to forget about anything else (work, family, sleep) and get back to writing my story. I want to hurry and finish this entry so I can write some more.
I plot my stories loosely, coming up with one or two sentences per chapter as a skeleton. I add the muscles, internal organs and skin as I go along (I started with 25 planned chapters, I now have 36 and counting). But I am at a part I have been looking forward to, a part in the story I wasn’t sure I would get to. And now that I’m there, I want to get through it and see where the story takes me. Not that the beginning of the story wasn’t important or didn’t speak to me in some way, but I’m in the middle of the story and ready to make it fly along to the end.
That’s why I believe I will always be a writer, in some form or fashion. Having that creative outlet and the satisfaction of creating a story that entertains me. I hope to someday entertain others as well, but I will be content, even if that day never comes.