Barry B. Longyear Webmansion

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.

I admit: There are times when I feel filled with the writing wisdom of the ages. All one need do is ask and I shall bless you with beginner, intermediate, or advanced sets of pearls from the fountainhead of literary profundity itself. At other times I feel so full of crap I could be the featured ingredient in a truck bomb of substantial proportions.

Observe: On October 23rd of this year, a shade more than a month ago, I blogged about defining literary success, and how defining it in terms of art, instead of money, is the path to true literary fulfillment, happiness, and sanity. So there I was, beginning a week ago until last night, on a hook because I was so frustrated that a certain book of mine is not a commercial $ucce$$.

"Hypocrite!" you shout from the battlements, or from your window if your castle has no battlements. Perhaps you only mutter it. In any event,  Read More