It’s 11:11p and I’m taking a break from working on my novel’s synopsis (yes, I’m writing one this week, too.) to write this. You see, I need a moment of honest, cathartic release. So I turn to you, my friends who will undoubtedly understand where I’m coming from. Maybe. I hope.
Confession: I had one of those weekends when the gravity that we all wrestle against just anchored me down. You know, the gravity of reality that rips the wings off butterfly dreams and crushes our paper thin conviction that we can do it. Yeah, that gravity.
Maybe it was because I was sick and my wife was, too. I’m grumpy when I’m sick. Maybe it was because I hadn’t slept much, or that I was stressing about my lack of progress on my writing last week. I get grumpy about those things, too. Whatever it was, I bought into the Voice’s smooth talking ways and began to believe that I just can’t do it. I can’t do it. What am I thinking? I have a full-time job, a wife, a daughter…I’m, I’m just a busy guy and maybe writing is just too hard. I mean, who does this to themselves on purpose?
I’ll tell you who: David Baldacci.
At the height of my dismay, which by the way coincided with my sinus medicine wearing off, I somehow or another ended up on Baldacci’s website. Have you read his personal story? If you haven’t, you should.
“I started writing fiction because it was fun. I never expected to make a dime doing it. There were (and are) many wonderful writers who were never published. I didn’t see myself as a wonderful writer (and still don’t). I saw myself as an apprentice learning a labor intensive, solitary, often frustrating and yet time-honored craft that rarely rewarded its disciples with anything other than the cruelest of rejection.
Success for me was spending over a decade in complete obscurity dutifully reading and writing and trying to learn how to tell a story with words in such a way that people other than my mother would enjoy it. I never perfected anything, but I got better because I kept at it. My writing time was ten at night until three in the morning. I did that for over ten years while working full-time as an attorney in Washington. I was married and had a family, and I would have had no success without the support of my wife, Michelle.”
It dawned on me that David Baldacci was me. David Baldacci was you. He had a job, kids, a wife, and all of the attachments, joys, and distractions that come with all of that. Yet, he did it and had fun with it. He never expected to sell 95 million books, but I guess no one does.
So, I finished reading David’s story, closed my laptop and found a bit of hope in my congested little world. If David Baldacci can do it, I think I can, too. I am doing it just like you are (or will be starting tonight, right?). I’ll continue being ambitious without making myself a slave for ambition’s sake. I’ll do it in obscurity for its own sake…the sake of doing it and having fun with it.
I’m feeling much better now. It’s amazing what a few day’s rest and some medicine can do to sharpen your perspective. So, if you’re discouraged, find some inspiration in David’s story. Who knew it took him ten years to be an overnight success? Funny how that works…
Speaking of work, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to writing. And so do you, friend.