The other day I wrote about how frustrated I was that I was not receiving comments or likes for my blog posts. I wanted to thank the outpouring of positive comments that came from that putting things in perspective for me.
Writing can be quite the lonely endeavor and at times, a frustrating one. I frequently try to tell myself that I write for the joy of writing, but sometimes it becomes easy to get caught up in wanting to write for others. I find myself wanting to please others, and when I do that, I struggle for ideas and when I post something and no one replies, my frustration mounts.
But the comments from my post the other day centered me. They made me realize why I write once again. I never showed my first writing notebook in high school to anyone. I just wrote poems, short stories, and drew cartoons in it for the pure creativity and enjoyment of it.
My hope is to get one of my books published through a traditional publishing house and into stores one day, and if that happens, I will need to become open to criticism. Not everyone will like my writing. And I need to accept that. People are entitled to their beliefs. But at the end of the day, just like with anyone else who wrote something, that work is mine.
A lot goes into a piece of writing, no matter how long or short it is. I've been writing this short story, "The Year of the Cicada" now for the last four days and once I reach a point where I don't think I can make it anymore, I stop. I don't want to jeopardize my storytelling for the sake of 'pushing through.'
I envy those few who have careers as authors. It's hard to break into a traditional publishing company. I've tried with one of my books, Crash and Burn, where I sent it to several agencies with either no reply or the standard, "This isn't what we're looking for at this time." Yet, I should remember that failure is nothing more than a roadblock to success. Most people that are anything have encountered failure. Stephen King was denied entry into magazines several times and pinned the denial letters to his wall. The denials got so heavy that they slid down the nail he pinned to them. J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone got rejected by a dozen publishing houses before being picked up. I bet those other houses regret that decision.
There have been a number of people in my life that have encouraged me with my writing over the years. I remember a time when I wanted to run out and play with my friend instead of finishing a short story I was writing about how Legos came to life. My mom told me to finish it first, and then she read it of course. It was things like that which kept me going.
Other times, like during the post the other day, I became discouraged. But writing is not any easy field. We have to remember those that build us up. We have to remember what's good and positive in life, especially in 2020. We have to remember why we love to write. I forgot that briefly the other day, and I thank the commenters on that post for helping me remember. Thank you, and thank you for reading.