Sometimes I wonder why I continue writing.
It’s not based on the fact that I want to make money because I’ve gotten past that dream.
Although it is still something I wish to obtain. Quitting my day job of working in the insurance industry would be great because-let’s face it-insurance isn’t all the exciting and I’ve been doing it now for ten years. Regarding writing it’s nice to have the royalties come in and help out paying bills. My sales are fair and hitting a bestseller list would be wonderful, but I’m doing what I can so I muddle along.
I’ve been writing now for sixteen years and eight of those are professionally. I have over seventy books out-novels to novellas and I think that’s a pretty good stack under my belt. I’ve had some wonderful experiences with publishing companies and I’ve had some not so wonderful. All authors have a few war stories. I’ve met some great people and some that make me go hmm…and I’ve made some lifelong friends from it.
There are times I wake up and glance at the computer and groan because it feels like a chore to write. And others all I want to do is write. Those are the good days. Characters chattering away in my head making me think I’m crazy, but all writers have to argue with the voices in their heads at times to make sense of the noise and sort out the plots. Story lines twist and turn in my brain until I work them out on paper. But the thrilling thing about writing all these years is the stories that come out and appear after all the hard work. I never assumed that I would have amassed this amount of work. My goal, at least for now, is to get to one hundred published books and then so where I go from there. But I’m also trying to move from the romance genre and move back into the horror genre where I first started writing or at least mashing it up more.
So I guess the real reason I keep writing is to stay sane and see where the worlds in my head lead. Someday I’m sure I’ll get burnt out completely, but for now I keep on pluggin’