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Don’t stop writing because you didn’t get fame and fortune from it

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Recently, I have been speaking to a lot of writers, because they see that I am published on Kindle, and for some odd reason, that kind of bestows a random celebrity status on me. When in reality, it is nothing. I wrote a crappy book, and published it on the Internet, because nowadays, anyone who has an internet connection, can publish crap on the web.

I admit that I wrote a crappy book. Because I absolutely know that I am still learning. I am still a newbie. A baby. A newborn at this whole writing business. I need to get so many more thousands of hours under my belt in order to know anything about writing. I am not at all close to the greats in my imagination or in reality.

Ernest Hemingway, Dick Francis, Elizabeth Gilbert, J.K. Rowling, and so many more authors who are my favorites, are looking down upon me from the heavens, and tsking, when I am being lazy in my choice of words and writing lazily rather than using my creative efforts to the utmost.

But I know this. I know that I am a nobody in the writing world.

I don’t write to become a somebody. I cannot want that right now. Because that is still too far for me. Right now, my ultimate goal with writing is to learn the craft. Such a long way to go for me. Such a long way.

When I speak to those individuals on the ground level, who ascribe genius to me, because I completed a few novels, and I write thousands of words every single day, I hear the same refrain over and over again.

They knew from a very young age, because they were told this over and over again, that they are a great writer. They are going to be rich and famous, because of their creativity. They just need to wait long enough to be discovered.

But like most talented people, they became lazy and didn’t practice their craft. The thought being, well, I will write more when I am rich and famous. I don’t want to waste all of my good writing right now, when I am just a nobody.

(My retort to that is that Franz Kafka wrote Metamorphosis when he was alive and an unknown. He became famous in obscurity when a relative got his novel published. So you never know what might happen when you die. Conclusion being — just write damn it.)

So they waited. And they waited. They had moss growing over them as they waited. They had moss growing over their creativity and their writing skills as they waited. Instead of writing throughout this time, because they liked to write, they waited to write, until it meant something.

Meant something to whom?? Does writing only mean something when it’s making hundreds of thousands of dollars, and getting you onto Oprah’s talk show?

Most of us writers, we write, because we have this weird desire and need to write. We need to write, as much as we need to breathe. Sometimes even more.

So while you are waiting and not writing, you are basically suffocating yourself slowly and surely. Why? Because someone else has to recognize you?? Why? How? What purpose?

I tell every aspiring writer the same thing (and I tell myself the same thing several times a day) — all we need to do is write every single day. Write. Write. Write. I would write this out a thousand more times, but I am lazy — so pretend like I have written it out a thousand times.

All we need to do is write every single day.

We need to write. Otherwise we will die. No need to wait for someone else to give us a permission slip to write. Write, right now. Write every day. Write. Write out what’s going on in your head. Right now.

Do not wait for fame or fortune to write. Do not think that if your book isn’t a mega success that you are not meant to be a writer. Most people on this planet don’t know good writing from bad, so why are we basing our decision to be a writer on someone else’s poor godawful judgement?? God, that’s dumb of us, isn’t it?

So write every single day.

Don’t wait for anything.

Time and tide waits for no man? Well, add a writer to that as well. Time, tide, and a writer waits for no man.

Now go forth and write.