My blogs are read by very few people, and that's okay. My books are read by very few people. Most of which are good friends who would buy whatever I write just becauce I wrote it. Not because it is any good. I have never had any reason to believe I was a good writer. In fact I have actually given my books to my family as gifts and most of them have never opened the cover. I write because something inside of me tells me that's what I need to do. Except evertime I finish a book by one of my favorite authors I realize my abilities are no where near theirs. I write because it gives me a creative outlet and let's me think I can tell a good story. My latest work was started a year and half ago and is only at chapter 11. No one is clamoring for my work except my inner demons. If I am one of the few people that buy my work then I guess I need to be okay with that. Selling books is not the reason I write. But lately I haven't been writing at all. My outer demons have been shouting down my inner ones. Life gets in the way of my writing and instead of it being my outlet, it becomes something I have to do instead of something I want to do.
My plan when I started down this road a few years ago was to write four books and then see where it led. I didn't expect it to lead to nowhere. I feel like my muse is dead and I was a fool for ever starting down this path. I want writing to be something I can't wait to do instead of something that keeps nagging at me to finish. I don't know why I'm telling you all of this except that I need to get this out and no one will read it anyway.
My main motivation for writing is to help people escape thier lives for a minute. I guess blogging about my life experiences holds the same hope. To let people know if they feel all alone in the world they aren't.
I hope I find the courage to finish my fourth novel and my first ever novella, but just for me not because I expect anyone else to like it.
Until next time.
