So I was stuck. Writing is hard work. I had a project I wanted to do, but I had already gotten a few wags of disapproval from my agent and a publisher. The fear? Is this project going to be worth my time and effort? What if it will be nothing more than a waste of time?
Time and effort toward what end? Success? So what is my measure of success? Money? Fame? Publication? Crowds applauding and yelling, "Yaaay, Barry!"? I had all that in the bad old days, and I call them "the bad old days" because I was dying and leaning more and more toward welcoming death. I had to change my method of writing, my means of writing, my reasons for writing, as well as my measure of success. It worked great for many years.
This morning, though, the old fear came over me. "Is this project worth my time?"
I consulted the runes and was told once again that creation is its own reward. My job is to create the stories that move me, unattached to outcomes. That means publication, nice reviews, sales, awards are all irrelevant. Is this a story I want to create? Yes. Will the living and writing of this story be sufficient reward for writing this story? Yes. Then, the only thing left for me is to get on with it. It's good to refresh one's motivation every so often.
Have a good writing day.