At the beginning of the year I was at point where I wasn’t sure what was next for me in my writing journey. I never thought I would get to a point where I considered shelfing my novel Torque.
In my last post, I mentioned how much I didn’t want give up on something I’ve worked so hard on for so long. I don’t want to stop (re)writing the novel. It’s something two agents have shown interest in it. If I stop now and email them, I would feel like a failure.
I’ve anticipated the feeling and it’s not great. I know that that feeling is holds me back, but it’s hard to get out of my own head and out of my own way.
I think some of my frustration in my last post came from wanting to well with my first novel. I want it to go far and be published in multiple languages. I want it to be a New York Times bestseller. It would be rare for something like that to happen, for a first-time published author with their first book.
While there is nothing wrong with wanting this, there’s still a piece of me where it seems wrong to want all these things. And want the things that come along with wanting a hit book. I’m sure all of us writers want this deep down.
My plan is to just keep writing in any form that that words come to me in. Whether they are poems, letters, stories, etc. It’s a way how I started to writing, first with poems then fanfictions and then my own works.
After a major anxiety attack (and almost mental breakdown), people are encouraging me to write. I see commericals for publishing. I was sitting in church one day and the choir sung a song that touched me; the lyrics (and bible verse) were along the lines of: “Write the vision.”
I’ve identified myself as a writer to so many people, helped with editing, and (hopefully) encourage others in their journey. I believe if I stop writing now, I am rejecting part of myself. Words are my art. My true form of expression.
What’s next for me is finishing Torque, submitting it, and keeping it moving. What’s next for me is to keep writing.