A Writer's Career

One of the strangest things to me is a writing career. There are scads of methods taught by teachers all over the world claiming avenues to successful writing. But there is no right way, only the way that works for you – for today at least. Tomorrow that technique may not work at all, and instead you'll just stare at the blank screen or the blank page until you begin to fear it. I don't know if musicians or sculptors or painters start their day wondering if they will create something beautiful like they did the day before or last week or I guess, last year. And it stumps them. Haunts them. Maybe so.

Unlike other art forms, everyone can write. And each one of us lives a magnificent life that is interesting to us (otherwise we wouldn't have created it). So many, many people want to write a book. And they often think it's so easy and will lead to tons of money upon which they can retire. But for most of us writers, it's a job like any other and very few make it so big to retire to that deserted island for ever more.

I trained myself for the corporate world but ended up a writer who cringes at the four white walls without windows and the idea that safety is found in a benefit package. Yet when your security begins to depend on your art, it changes how you approach it. I'm sure the greatest artists (in this I include writers) are those who don't allow the critics (in their head or in their profession) to invade their creative work space. I want to feel trust in the muse again. My first two books were written from pure enjoyment - an overflow of feelings, thoughts, hopes, pain, joy – ironically enough they are still my best selling. And I am most proud of them.

My first musings were just that, raw thoughts and feelings I posted online. I felt like they were going out to the abyss. I'm not sure I even considered whether or not they were being read. Now I get comments on them. That feels like there's strangers in my bedroom and it leaves me feeling vulnerable and exposed in a way that tests whether or not I feel safe doing the one thing that makes me feel so happy. (It's okay to post – it's just I'm getting scared the bigger my pool gets).

Mostly an artist/writer spends their time alone with the muse, and yet in today's world there is much pressure for the artist to get out in the world, to promote like mad, to stand out from the competition: 300,000 books published a year.

I'm partly internal, inquisitive, quiet, deeply interested in spirit with a slight obsession on how and why things work the way they do. Sometimes I'm quite serious about my art, my beliefs and it's hard for me to share that and bring it to the harsh light. I used to think this fear of shameless promotion was about a climb up the "self worth mountain" after which I conquered, I'd reach an earthly nirvana. But you know, I'm sick of that excuse. It's my job, my passion, my life to write and so I've written seven books. I see the amazement in other's eyes. I look at my stack of books and I am proud of what I've accomplished. I just don't know yet how to show it off. I don't know how to parade my writings about intimate feelings, deep beliefs and passion.

I am also partly a vibrant gypsy – a dancing butterfly on the wind - seeking experience and the juiciest bits of Life. I'm adventurous, a tad wild at times. Most people who meet me see this playful bouncing sprite. I flit around the festivals and fairs as if I'm the Belle of the Ball. Until or unless anyone asks me about my books. Then I either get embarrassed at their admiration or sullen because I think I should be doing more.

I'm honest in writing my point of view on life's experiences, but I'm not comfortable doing it anymore, and I'm not as raw or organic as I used to be. I try to make it perfect, wrapping up my musings in some prophetic way with a shimmering bow that the marketing team at New York publishing houses can't ignore.

I want to write as deeply as I soar. I want to once again write without placing expectation or emphasis on how many people it inspires or how many books it sells or whether or not it impresses my agent, my editor, my publicist.

These two sides of me – the deep and the playful – seem to be imperative to being a successful writer and yet the bridges that unite these forces are not what I would like them to be. For years I've been convinced if I could just get these worlds to merge I could retire to that deserted island. But can or should they mix? Can I give myself permission to not know the answers and just write?

Past Musing