I found myself contemplating what possesses me to write. I mean, there are so many other things I have to do that always seem to take precedence, whether I want them to or not. The recent issues in the publishing world, with ebooks, and the Google settlement, and the Harlequin vanity press launch, all combines to make me ponder why I am bothering to write. There are so many others who are much better at this than I am. What makes me think that writing should be a priority?
First, consider that I am primary caregiver for my elderly dad who lives in assisted living. You might think this would mean I have more time since he’s no longer living with us in our house. In fact, it doesn’t work that way. He used to be right there in the house so we could keep in touch easily. Now he’s 30 miles away from our house, and 10 from where I work. He wants me to visit more, to talk to him on the phone. My husband and I make a point to take him out to dinner at least once a week so he can have what he calls a decent meal, which includes a martini. That’s fine. I understand. We shared cocktails every evening while he lived with us for 17 years (he moved in with us in the fall of 1991 and out to assisted living in the fall of 2008). Then there are the Sunday afternoon visits at our house, so we can chat without worrying about who is hearing us talk about his personal affairs. I manage his accounts and pay his bills, too. I (and often my family) take him to his doctor appointments and make sure he has healthy snacks to fill in between meals when he doesn’t like what is served (which he frequently grumbles about to me; yet another necessary drain on my time).
There’s also this little thing called a full-time job as a support contractor for NASA in Huntsville, Alabama. “Full-time” means a minimum of 40 hours a week, naturally. I have flex time so I can shift when I work around a core set of start and stop times, but it’s still 40 hours of my time devoted to somebody else’s needs. I hope to be able to quit working someday, maybe in 5 years or so. We’ll see though. I enjoy traveling and researching and the extra money that comes from my job makes that possible.
There are also the friends that are having marital problems, and family members having financial problems, loss of jobs, etc., that we do what we can to help with. That may mean searching for jobs online, helping a friend move, listening while the friend cries out her sadness and pain.
Let’s not forget my loving and super supportive husband. We started taking golf lessons before Christmas and over this coldest part of the winter we have let that slide. Still, we’ve paid for them, so those have to be filtered back into our time. After all, as our children mature into adults we need to have common interests that we can do together. Golf is one of them. I just don’t play very well because of a lack of consistency. And we’re remodeling our house inside right now so we can enjoy the new look for a few years before we are planning to move closer to work, closer to my dad’s apartment, and closer to where my husband’s dad is planning to move in a year or so. All this planning takes time and mental energy.
But then, all of these activities, I realized as I was driving home in the snow last week, provide fodder for conflicts in stories. I wouldn’t cut out any one of these tasks, these moments, these opportunities to reach out and be there for someone else. My day job forces me out of the solitary world of my home and helps me meet some real-life characters and get to know distinctive personalities that inform my characters in my stories. All of this combines to fuel my writing, not prevent it.
I write because—as my husband put it when I was contemplating out loud all the reasons why writing is hard and the publishing world is in such uproar over formats and rights and royalties—I cannot not write. The characters in my head are just as real to me as my two wonderful flesh and blood children. They are more likely family to me than the many dogs and cats found in our homes, even my own adorable tortie cat Calliope. The places and situations call to me to describe them and to solve the dilemmas and conflicts.
I need to share what’s in my imagination, not because it’s easy, or because I’ll be famous (ha!), but because there has to be an outlet for the flow of images and people and emotions swirling in my head. I may not be the most wonderful writer to ever put word on paper, but I am a writer. I am an author. That’s something that I’ll never be able to quit or retire from as long as there are story people populating my mind.
So tell me: what (or who?) possesses you to write? Can you imagine ever giving it up – really?
Betty Bolte
I cannot. I once read somewhere this question: What would you do if you were guaranteed by the “forces that be” you would not fail?
Through life I’ve asked myself that question and when writing came into the picture, I knew it was the answer. Which leads me to another quote I read along the way (I read alot!): I can’t believe they PAY me to do this!
Those two thoughts are the reasons I write — from a career aspect, anyway. On a personal note, I write because I LOVE to write! I love my characters, my stories–I love it all! And if nobody ever reads them, save my daughter, it will all be worth it.
Every minute.
Dianne
I’m with Dianne. I love to write, no matter how frustrating the process can be sometimes. I’ve worked other jobs, and nothing is as satisfying.
There is no choice. I write because I must. I get a little ‘funny in the head’ if I go for more than 1 or 2 days without putting pen to paper. The characters are up there and must be set free…
Wow! I hear you loud and clear! Only this morning, I thought about what life would be like if I wasn’t writing. And I came across something interesting. It was a lot easier to write when I WASN’T published! Yes, it was easier, because deadlines and promotional things (large users of my time) weren’t in the way.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I am very happy to be a published author, but there are days when I would get a lot more writing done if I had more time.
To try and counteract the time problem, I’m going to a three day retreat next weekend where people are only allowed to speak to you IF you put your badge on. I’m leaving my badge in the drawer until at least after dinner.
Wish me luck!
Stella
You said it: because I cannot no write. I did not believe this for years. And then I decided to stop writing, at least for money. When I stopped pursuing the writing ‘career’, I discovered I could not stop pursuing writing. It is a calling. When I write what is tugging at my heart, only then do I get relief.
The business of writing I cannot abide. Thank God I don’t have to; I ‘rely on the old man’s money’.
Sorry for being a bit slow in responding – I just realized today that my blog was posted on Friday and I’ve been on the road to Charleston and Myrtle Beach, SC, doing research into the American Revolution so didn’t have easy access to the internet for the last few days. Thanks for sharing your drives! It’s heartening to me to be reminded how we each have this penchant for storytelling. Tomorrow I start writing my next story because to NOT tell the story would be worse than telling it poorly. One thing I’ve discovered on this trip is that my story is definitely rooted in historical facts, which is so reassuring! Happy writing!
I started writing in April 2009 and now I can’t “not” write. I just sent my beginning pages, for the second time, to an author/editor person I found in the RWR magazine to help me out. So, I stopped writing as I await her reply and I feel so antsy, I could climb the walls, because I’m not writing. I guess I’ve acquired some sort of writer’s “infection” that can only be cured by the “writing” antibiotic! I am so anxious to write the third book in my series, to see where my characters go, from where they were hanging in “limbo” at the end of the second book!