Most of us, I think, write because we have no choice. Something always makes our hands go to paper or keyboard, put words together and sometimes even create well-written sentences, and grammatically correct paragraphs. Some of us do not even care, we just need to get it out, impassioned by an event, dream, feeling, hope or a stream from another author. Anything can spark a short, poem, novel, or screenplay.
Most of us will never be signing at the local bookstore or on a best seller list but is that the true measure of a good author, poet, columnist; maybe. Yet, we will continue to write and amass pages that one day might pile forgotten or kept by a loved ones, somewhere, until the space they take is unclaimed.
Payment for our art is great. We feel acknowledged and appreciated because someone put dollars on our words. I have copies of checks received for a few poems and articles. But, don’t want to print and peddle my own stuff other then on my own blog or social media, not yet. Even though, I know self published authors who to me have said more and are better writers then many “popular” best sellers. I also know good writers who might never publish.
I will continue to write, grateful for the buck but not solely for it. I do want the eyes of others to feast on my words and pages but I will write because I must, or I will…do what else?
Albeit, I love family, friends, dates, fun, travel, books, TV, movies, dancing and more but to write is my best space. Even now when still in my pjs, the news on TV, my husband walk in…and I say, “I just had to write this…” I accept his kiss and his “I know.” And I promise some eggs and toast, but glance at the time and its past three! “As soon as I’m done…” and we will join friends on a short trip and do many things…and he knows that my hands long for the pen or keyboard, and oh my God now I have an IPod!