This day has just flown by and I feel I have accomplished very little. Not one word added to my work in progress. That always feels like a fail.
Yet in truth, I have been working at my writing. Unless one only intends to tell stories and commit words to paper in their own solitary writing cave, to be seen by no eyes but their own, then there is a phenomenal amount of what I think of a peripheral writing work to do.
It is such work that has consumed my day. In a nutshell, networking.
I have been networking with another writer who was asking for help finding resources to research literary agents before sending out queries. That took some time.
I have been spending a lot of time reading and critiquing the writings submitted by five other writers in preparation for a meeting of a local writing group tomorrow evening.
I have been communicating with another group of people who are starting up another writers’ group in the area that may, possibly, be dedicated to those of us who are writing for the MG or YA audience.
In the midst of all this, I have been fretting over my own approach/avoidance dance with researching more agents to query for my first novel.
All of this drains energy and time away from the prime effort to write the next novel!
Never let anyone tell you that writing is an easy career to pursue, or that anyone can write a book. Yet we persist. Something vital, something necessary, something mysterious drives writers to keep on doing what they do. For that I am grateful.
For me, it is love of Story. I need to tell the stories that crowd into my head. I am a Storyteller.
Write Now 