My passion to be a published author
affects the lives of those around me. I tend to get very
focused on my work, which not only involves the creative process of writing,
but the creative and business processes of self publishing as well. I love what
I do and the days fly by when I am ‘working’. It rarely feels like work though.
The work falls more to those around
me.
My husband sometimes feels shunned and neglected. Still he manages to have the
coffee ready after I sleep in because I couldn’t stop writing until 3 A.M.. I go into self imposed exile to commune with
my art. This is what shows me that I have chosen my friends and family well.
They do not bait me for attention or grow angry from my neglect of them. If they
feel it they kindly keep it to themselves.
They seem to know, as I do, that this is a race for me. They let me
run it and cheer from the sidelines. I write this today because I feel them all
around me, no matter how far away they may be. I feel my husband especially, because
he is rather affectionate today.
I write because I must,
my mind would explode if I couldn’t. It
is only recently that I have given into self publishing. I was a misguided writer who thought that to
be an author I must be recognized by an editor with a degree and an office. Then
one day I had an epiphany; I am not just an author, not just a writer. I am an artist! Maybe to some of you that seems arrogant to
say. To be recognized as an artist is
like being called a national treasure.
Of course I don’t feel that
way about it. What I mean is that I live
and breathe this. I create my art and
put it out for the world to see. I stand up to the critiques and I take that
all away and go back to the art and do it again, striving to be better and
better. I have somehow been able to step away from the desire for
recognition. I no longer seek
recognition of an agent or an editor. I
write for the heart. For your
heart. That is what I want to
capture. I write for the
imagination. I want to set yours
free. Someday I hope to be good enough
that I give you the same rush that I get the moment that I put the words down
on paper.
This is not only a godsend, but a
gift.
I get to express through my art on a daily basis. There is a gift of love that
those around me give repeatedly. They cheer me and encourage me and I do not
recognize it enough. A gift from God that has been in me since as soon as I
could talk. I’ve always told stories. My mother used to say my imagination was
going to get me into trouble. If I have this gift for imagination why must it
be a bad thing? So part of this is a gift from Mom. I have always hoped to
prove her wrong. My husband's gift is given knowing that we may crash and
burn, but we will do it together. I hope
that my gift to him will be to soar on the winds of success. We shall see.
I hope that the gift to my readers will be a fantastic read.
Don’t forget about those around you
who quietly support you and let you do what you must. Don’t lose sight of the
gifts they give you. Just by virtue of letting you do this thing that locks you
away from them for hours and days at a time, they deserve your thanks at least.
I hope they know they have my great respect.
I must let them know that. I pray for strength to continue and then I see my prayers are already answered. These people are my strength--my foundation.
Don’t let the desire for
recognition cloud your creativity. Toss it away, it is
liberating. I will keep writing and try
to get control of my misplaced commas. Although, my misplaced commas just might
be my signature brush stroke. For now I have a kind and generous man who sits
beside me proof- reading my latest work. I think that for all he does for me—I
will hug him now. You can’t get that job perk everywhere. Go hug someone that
supports you. Let them know that you stand upon their shoulders. Let them see that they are your foundation.
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