It's been two years since I finished writing FREEFALL, which means it's been two years since I've finished writing any book. This fact weighs upon me every day of my life.
It isn't like I've spent the past two years doing nothing. Even when I wasn't doing FREEFALL revisions and such, I'm always working on something or other. But I never finish those something-or-others.
Predictably, I abandoned the proposal I was working on for my agent and let him know that it won't be coming any time soon. (He said he was cool with that. He said for me to be free and write anything I want right now and not worry about a deadline.)
I have ambitions for my writing. I mean, yeah, yeah. Getting paid well and/or getting awards would be swell, of course, but that isn't what I mean. For every project I start, there is something deep and important (to me), something that I want to get out there to empower lives and broaden perspectives. Maybe I take that goal too seriously, and that's what makes me choke every time.
The story I've recently started--above all others--I have to finish this. This story needs to be told. I could try to talk myself out of it or convince myself that someone else out there could do it better, but I don't believe that. I can write this better than anyone. I feel like I have a responsibility. It would be irresponsible for me to not write it.
If I have a purpose in life, it is to write this book.
But, you know what? I don't know if that having that belief is even enough to make me make myself get it done. And if it isn't? There might not be anything that can make me finish another book. Which really makes me pissed at myself.