I’ve been writing for five years now. Well, that’s not entirely true. I have been writing most of my life, but for the last five years I have been actively seeking a writing career. I say career lightly because only the top two percent of writers have an actual writing career. The rest of us have day jobs.
Anyway, it’s been five years. I began writing Delivered in 2010. Looking back, it seems like a rough start. I recently re-read most of my first book and I was pleased to find that my writing has gotten stronger.
Also, looking back, I haven’t made any money. It makes me laugh because I didn’t start writing for the money, but the work—both physically and emotionally—I have put into not making any money is hilarious. I’m not being sarcastic either. It is actually hilarious.
So, why do I do it?
Because it is who I am. I am a writer. That is part of how God made me. Why pretend like it is less than it is? I am a writer, who has no monetary gain, but who loves to share with the world.
My writing is about connection and story. I don’t write to merely entertain, but I write so that others know they are not alone. Whether it is my blog or a book, my desire is for connection.
You all reached out to me after I talked about my lingering sadness over my mom. You said to me, “Me too.” That is perhaps the most stunning sentence I have ever read.
I want you all to know that each of you stirred my soul and reminded me of something wonderful. When I let you in, you let me in. We are like colors that mix. Upon our encounter, that part of us is changed into something new.
So, thank you, friends. Thank you. Me too.