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When there is little chance that anything will ever come of your novel in progress it makes it a whole lot easier to set it aside and just do nothing with it. I know the numbers. There’s only about a 2% chance I’ll ever make a living solely from my writing. And since I’m already three years and 7.5 drafts into this novel with no payoff in sight it makes me wonder why I even write.
Funny thing is, the thing I’ve learned about writing is that even though I’m extremely passionate about it I can’t say I really enjoy it most of the time. It feels like mental ditch digging once I sit down with pad and pen or in front of the computer and start typing away. What brings me back then? Why for over twenty years has that callus on the first joint of my middle finger where the tightly held pen rests continued to harden?As far as I can tell there are two main reasons why I sit my butt in the chair nearly every day and write.The first being when that initial idea rips through my brain and heart so brightly that my daily life goes on auto-pilot while the potential of the story spins in my mind sometimes for days.The second is due to those rare payoffs. Whether they are the tiny pittance I get from my poetry and short stories, the glacially slow book sales that barely cover the cost of the subway and single short coffee I drink at Starbucks while I write. The much more valuable payoffs though are the kind comments and encouragement I get from readers of my work that remind me that I might just be good at this goofy art form.But even these two reasons don’t really explain it. They don’t get to the heart of it. Honestly, I think it’s an addiction. Not like a classic addiction exactly though, the shit bum drunk, the junkie slamming smack, or even the methhead inhaling their euphoric death deep into their lungs type of addiction.No, this is more like the gambler’s addiction. This evil monkey on my back is the about flailing after a minuscule potentiality so slim that years spent chasing the end of a rainbow in the hope of finding a Leprechaun's gold would be much more productive probably.And so for the umpteenth time I find myself wondering why the hell I do it. Why the hell then do I even bother to put pen to paper? The only answer I’ve ever gotten is the first line to my newest story.