When I was in Kindergarten, my teacher had a system. After our lessons were finished, we would complete the work we’d been assigned for the day. Afterward, we’d be called up to the teacher’s desk, one at a time, in random order. She would then check our work over and if all was good, we could go and have play time until the rest of the class’s work was complete. I was a good student who had little difficulty completing my assignments. Typically, I was one of the first to be finished and called up for my check. That was, until one particularly frustrating day when I’d been finished for some time, and my teacher had yet to call on me. Exasperated, I called out, “I’m ready!” And in reply, I was told that as punishment for calling out, I would have to wait until the end. Little did I know that my battle to get to “play time” was only just beginning.
The school years, for me, were always a battle of trying to get to “play time.” I worked hard all day, all week, all year, and I cherished my summer vacations, during which I could gain some sort of clarity, recharge and relax and oh yes, have fun too. Though some of my favorite down-time activities included checking books out of the library and making up a world of stories about my dolls, it wasn’t until I was finished with school altogether and under the foolish assumption that I had at last regained my freedom when I realized I wanted to be a writer. The realization hit me hard and fast. The minute I first picked up that notebook and pen I discovered something about myself that I should have known for a long time. And with the newly assumed responsibility of trying to earn a living, the timing couldn’t have been worse.
I didn’t begin writing with the firm idea that I would one day earn a living from it. A recent college grad, I’d taken a few creative writing classes but I didn’t major in creative writing because I didn’t see this as a field many people make a living in. Still, it was what I’d enjoyed doing the most in school and I was eager to see what might come of that interest. I started writing my first romance novel, then picked up an actual romance novel to get the formula down, and I started again. A life-long addiction quickly followed, bringing with it a whole new dilemma. There were only so many hours in the day. And with a full-time job taking up most of them, making me quite tired and leaving much to be done in the off hours, that didn’t leave a lot of time for writing.
I did the best I could to make the time to write when I wasn’t working. Sometimes it worked out. Other times it was impossible and the desire to write, at such times, was overwhelming. I worked in a number of jobs in which the work was relatively mindless. It’s amazing how badly you want to write when it’s the one thing you can’t do and that goes double when you’re doing something that requires so little thought you could easily be doing two things at once if only you were “allowed.” Those times were tough times for me. And while I was dreaming of “play time,” I told myself that one day, I would have play time in spades, that being the day I earned enough money from my writing to make writing my full time job.
Anyone who’s ever made a living off of their writing, or anyone who’s ever tried to, could tell you what a truly difficult feat this is to accomplish. As someone who’s determined to make it without the backing of a publisher, perhaps it’s even harder. I don’t like to do things the easy way. I’m quite the dreamer and on numerous occasions, after quitting one job or another, I set out on a course to write and do nothing but write. It was a noble effort on my part, but alas “playing” all day didn’t work for me for a number of reasons. For starters, writing a book takes time. Something has to be paying the bills until such time as your books can be released onto the market, and, oh yes, and you need to be earning enough money in royalties from said books to in fact pay said bills. To a more minor point, writing and doing little but writing for 8 – 12 hours a day while trying to market and earn a living from that writing can get pretty tedious as well, believe it or not.
Though my first book was released in 2011, I’ve actually been at the writing game for 16 years and I’ve had my ups and downs. When dreams of getting rich quick, or even earning a moderate living as a novelist are brought down to reality it can be difficult to find the motivation to continue even with something you love. At various times (the year I was planning my wedding comes to mind) I was so busy and otherwise engaged, I questioned whether writing still had a place in my life. Maybe it had served its purpose in the time it had – it would be so nice to let go of the frustrations and disappointments, the agony of wondering whether I’d ever really “make it” as a writer, the feelings of utter despair I’d have at reading an article about marketing, one that made it sound as though everyone but me had found the magic formula, and if I could simply get out of my own way I’d wake up the next morning to the “big break” I ought to have had over a decade ago.
It took almost walking away for good to make me realize that, without writing, a huge part of my life, of me, would be missing. As a romance novelist, I believed perhaps that if I found romance in real life, the need I was trying to fill would be sated. The writer in me had other ideas. And at the most ironic of times, a global pandemic changed everything as I found myself with more “play time” than ever. Ideas started turning. Characters started speaking to me once again. And then the words just flowed.
Little has changed for me throughout the course of my writing career. I’ve never gotten my “big break,” though I am reassured somewhat when I read something that reminds me that even for those who’ve had some level of “big success” there is no guarantee of future success. But I have learned one thing. Writing is something I love now as much as the day I started doing it. Maybe even more. As the ideas keep turning throughout the course of my very busy life, I find myself fighting harder than ever to get to “play time!”