Sacrifices made

It’s raining today. Drops slide down my window like translucent
snails. Water puddles in the street. Worms
tunnel up from drowning liquid and sprawl across the sidewalk. And here I sit
in front of my computer belting out another novel. I forget who said it, but I
remember a quote that summed up the writing life completely. The quote went
simply; being a writer is like having homework every day for the rest of your
life. And that’s true for the serious, passionate author. Not a day goes by that
I don’t contribute in some way to one of my books or upcoming projects. Tens of
thousands of hours spent plotting, pitching, and producing. Sometimes I wonder
what I would have done with those hours had I not been a writer? Perhaps, I
would’ve become a great businessman, or politician? Or perhaps, I would have
wasted them in front of a TV or video game? Perhaps, I would have been a barfly
and one drunken evening met someone other than my wife? Unless I can invent a
time machine, I’ll never know. My current work-in-progress deals with these
kinds of questions, but I’m not going to get into promotion right now. What
makes nostalgia flow on days like this is the social sacrifices all serious
writers make. It is the loneliest profession in the world, after all. The
saddest however, is the writer who doesn’t hit the grand success they’ve dreamt
and think they have wasted their time pursuing their passion. If you truly
enjoy your craft than that enjoyment itself is the reward; not fortune, fame,
or recognition. All the sacrifices made are worth it.

http://www.neilostroff.blogspot.com