Friday, July 15, 2011

The Nagging Question

The last few weeks, I’ve been surprised at something unexpected: the nagging question that perhaps it’s time to give up writing and move on with my life.
I’ve wanted to write since I was nine and dabbled with it while I got on with my life: went to college, got a proper job, bought a house, got married, and had babies.
When we decided to move to Ireland five years ago I made a decision that I would be serious about my writing and be more proactive rather than the disconcerted effort that was made while I lived in the US. And I have done a lot more in the last five years than in all the previous 30+. In the beginning, when we first arrived and the boys were babies and needed my undivided attention, I had to wait until my husband came home and every night after dinner, I managed to write and that resulted in a chick lit manuscript which I still love but received 44 rejections none the less. I chalked it up to experience. I became involved in Write Words out of the UK, an online writing group and met some really fabulous people and now am in a private splinter group with them. I published an article in Writer’s Forum. I started two blogs, this one and Chicklite. I also contribute to Book in a Week blog. I completed a first rough draft of another novel, women’s fiction while doing NaNoWriMo. (National November Writing Month- global effort to write 50k, unedited in one month- great novel starter) Unfortunately I had to abandon that as I couldn’t stand the MC (main character).
Two years ago, I started working on my present WIP- about a teenage girl who has supernatural powers but wants nothing to do with it. I have it completed at 100k words, but I’m in the middle of editing it which is time consuming and sometimes I feel like I’m walking through sand. Once that’s done, I’ll make the starter rounds of querying agents.
But all of this takes time. And a big chunk of it. And I’ve yet to be published.
All my life, the dream of writing has always been in the back of mind and sometimes on the back burner while I did other things; mainly lived life. But when I worked as a hospice nurse and took care of a lot of people on their deathbed, I determined for myself that I didn’t want to end up on my own deathbed, regretting that I didn’t pursue my dream of writing. But after five years, can I say that I gave it my best shot, give it up and live with that?
For the very first time, I’m thinking of giving it up. That has never happened before. Granted, I’ve walked away from it, put it down but I always returned. But now there’s a different feeling underfoot. And I have to ask my self: is my dream of writing worth it? Will my boys remember me as someone who had a computer as an appendage? Is it time to stop fooling around and get a proper job?
And that is the question that I’m going to think about and turn over while I’m on vacation in the US in August.

1 comment:

  1. Just checking to see if I can post a comment

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