Sometimes it seems that writers, especially writers of quirky fiction, are like a family waiting in a storm cellar. They know the storm is coming, they think they might be hit, and being hit by a storm is devastating.
From the beginning on Uphill Writing, a recurrent theme has been, “is the time of writers over?” Are books dying? Is reading becoming a lost art? And, if so, why bother writing?
Communication via some form of language is a long way from being dead. In fact, it isn’t even coughing. It is changing. That’s clear. What it is changing into… well, that remains to be seen.
I am very late getting into writing every day. All my life I’ve promised myself–and anyone who would listen–that I would be a writer. But there was never time, or the proper setting, or the correct tools… there was never just the right inspiration. There was always some reason it didn’t happen.
Now, I’m all fired up. I’ve got what I hope to be a good novel (a supernatural mystery) about 2 seconds from ready, and the rumor is that the market is 10 seconds short of falling apart.
I guess it comes down to this:
I don’t care if the market is falling apart. Finishing novels, getting them polished and added to a slush-pile is, in itself, a rewarding project. Do I want to sell my work? Hell, yes! But more than that, I want people to read it. To be moved by it. I want people changed by what I right. But, yeah, money is a good thing, too.
So, if the market fails, it fails. If people stop reading… so be it. But me? I’m going to keep writing until they pry my keyboard from my cold, dead hands.
Heh.
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I’m with you, Rik!
Writing gives me a reason for getting up in the morning.
My keyboard helps me sail through my days, whatever the weather outside.