What drives me to write, to publish?
|When I realized as a teenager that perhaps this whole writing thing could go further than my journals, I fantasized at the possibility of seeing my name in print. After a while, when people told me I should try to publish, the fantasy turned into a possibility.
I knew one day I would see my name in print.
As with all teenaged dreams, they either drop or flitter away. I stopped writing at nineteen.
But I still believed I would someday see my name in print.
I became a land surveyor, autographing papers that ended up at the local Register of Deeds. Suddenly, that certainty took on a different meaning. Instead of my name being on the cover of books for all posterity, now it will end up in the history of public property.
I was fine with that until I resumed writing two years ago.
I know now beyond even the optimism of youth I will see my name on the front cover of books.
Is it the money I seek, or the fame? When I was nineteen I would have answered an emphatic, “Yes!”
Now fame and fortune scare me. I’d rather write and watch my books be published, have my name and my writing become famous while I go through life in physical obscurity. To me, it’s about the words I write, not me. I want them to make a difference in people’s lives. Whether I touch 100 people or 100,000 people, it doesn’t matter. That I’ve made a positive difference in even one person’s life is what drives me.
Step in the blog. After only a few entries, I discovered my words make a difference. Readers have taken the opportunity to tell me so, both by commenting in my blog and private emails. I've saved the private ones and will never delete them, their words touch me so deeply.
Plus, readers keep coming back. Checking my stats the other day, in the last 30 days I average 38 viewers with 13 views each. While that number may be low compared to other, more outstanding blogs, it's still way more than I ever expected. I treasure each and every one.
Because of those things, my writing focuses on my blog more than any other writing. That has reduced my ambition to publish, but it bothers me less than expected. I’m touching more people’s lives with my blog than anything else I’ve written combined. That’s what the written word is supposed to do.
I will continue to write until the day I cease to breathe, whether in my blog, or elsewhere. I don’t hope to die in my sleep at a ripe old age. I hope to die of old age at my computer with my fingers at the keyboard or in a comfortable chair with pen in hand, poised to write just one more word.
Word Count: 483