When Writing Rocks…
I saw a Facebook post from one of my writer friends the other day that said they were going to quit. They said writing didn’t pay, wasn’t reliable enough and that it burned too much energy.
I read this great if rather depressing blog on how much a writer earns, by the brilliant Susan Elliot Wright. Someone once asked me how much he could expect to make from his (unwritten) first novel. I told him it’s probably easier to make money as an astronaut. My more sensible friends are looking forward to their retirements, and their pensions. At this rate I’ll be working until the day I die.
Last week these kind of thoughts drove me to despair. (See When Writing Sucks…) This week I really don’t care.
The difference? This week I got my first feedback on my next novel (The Runaway) from two of my most trusted sources – my long-time writing BFF, Anna Chilvers and my agent, Jamie Cowen. I’ve been writing this novel for the last two years.
[image error]The awesome Jamie Cowen
When I’m writing I live in a world that no one other than me knows exists. I don’t plan, so I have no idea when I set out what the limits of this world are. Writing often takes me to dark places, and there’s times when I’m scared I’m going mad. Stephen King (On Writing) calls this phase writing with the door closed.
So when someone says they’ve been to my world and they got it, they could see why and how and what I’ve been doing for the last two years – their words are like fairy dust. They’re better than money, better than pensions, better than job security and stable, reassuring routines.
I feel like I’ve been refuelled. I sat down and wrote ten thousand words of book three without stopping to think and I can’t wait to start editing The Runaway. Of course there are still no guarantees but I don’t care if I have to work until the day I die, because writing rocks…
