The thought crossed my mind today. The thought.
“You could just play video games. No one would care. No one would fault you. Hell, if you never started this next book no one would notice.”
“What would happen if you just stopped writing? You’d be able to relax. You know who would care if you stopped? No one. You’re the only one. Maybe your closest friends would ask about it, eventually. Here’s how much they’d care:
“Hey, haven’t heard about you writing much lately.”
“Yeah, kind of been too busy for it.”
“Oh that’s too bad, you were going super hard there for a while.”
“Yeah, just got really busy.”
The voice then reminds me insidiously that this is as much as anyone would miss my writing, and even then only a mere handful of people. Just stop. Be like the rest and enjoy your evening hours. Who cares about this story except for you?
No one- yet.
Should they? Could they? Would they? I don’t know, that all depends on whether I put in the work to give them a story to even consider. It all depends on the argument my story makes for being worth their time.
I believe that Beneath the Wood was a worthwhile story to be told, and worked it for a year until I was sure that it is as a finished product. I believe that Five Talents was a worthwhile story to be told, and worked it for a year until I was sure that it is as a finished product.
Now, I’ve battled inwardly with it, and I believe that Unicorns & Satellites could be a worthwhile story. I’m going to get to work justifying that statement starting tonight.
We move forward.