Have you ever looked at the top of a big, beautiful hill and wondered what the view could be like from way up there? The climb doesn’t look too bad from where you’re standing. How hard can it be?
At first, your steps are confident and strong. You’re thinking how wonderful it is to be walking up this hill, how invigorating. You’re really doing it!
About a quarter of the way, your heart beats a little faster and little beads of sweat pop out over your forehead. But it feels great! Keep going!
Halfway to the top, your breathing is heavier and that little faster heart beat has turned into pounding thumps. The sweat on your forehead has dripped down your face and is now trickling from beneath your armpits and along the curve of your back.
Whose idea was this anyway?
But, your gaze returns to the top of the hill and again you wonder about the view. Determined to see it for yourself, you carry on with a walk that has turned into more of a climb.
You thought that last quarter was steep – the next quarter has you wishing your boots had spikes. Spikes to dig into the ground and give you the traction you need to keep from slipping back five steps for every two forward. Balanced on the side of the hill, you carefully look around and wonder again whose idea it was. But, that view! Just imagine it from the top! And this is only one side. What sits on the other side that you can’t see from here?
About now you understand why you’ve only seen sheep this far up and why some people carry walking sticks. And ropes with cinches and other great climbing gear. Although this is only a hill and not a mountain, a good-sized grappling hook seems like it would be most helpful. Swing it around your head and throw with all you might and hope it finds a rock to grab onto or digs into the ground like you wish your imagined spiked boots.
But, you’re here, alone, with only your wits, bare hands, and the determination to make it to the top.
And that is where I am today. Taking two steps forward, then sliding back five or more, battling with self-doubt and the thought that maybe this writing way of life isn’t for me either. Every day, in your face, is another self-proclaimed writer/author spouting their opinions of what is right and what is wrong. Readers love detailed descriptions. Readers hate detailed descriptions. You must always do this. Oh my god, NEVER do that! I have listened so much that I can no longer hear or even write in some cases.
And then (yes, I did it. I used the dreaded ‘and then’) someone who has read one of your books sends a message, or actually posts a review, telling of how much they love your story and to never stop writing.
They don’t care about every little comma or if he/she/they said, uttered, replied, screamed, cried, scoffed, huffed, or whatever it is he/she/they do to say a few words. They don’t need every little detail described. The words are spoken, the actions are taken, and a person has escaped to another world and loved every minute of it.
So, now that this small venture into writing has taken me out of my funk, I can get back to it. For those who enjoy my books, you are my soul’s delight and I wish I were a better writer for you. Thank you for giving me purpose and making me feel like I’m worth the effort.