The Infinite Writing Mindset
Why do you write?
Most of us won’t make a living from fiction.
Not a decent one.
Not a do nothing else but write one.
Not a quick nor easy one.
In fact, we could write our whole lives and earn less than minimum wage doing it.
But do you really care?
How long do you plan on writing for?
One year?
Two or three years?
A decade, two, three, or four?
I’ll write until my fingers and brain are too blunt to sharpen a sentence.
It’s an infinite game for me.
There is no real winning it.
If that’s the case, are you even in a rush then?
Is there actually any sort of deadline?
If there really is, maybe I lost you in the first sentence and you actually are making a decent living writing fiction full-time.
But if you’re not.
If it’s a hobby first,
business second sort of thing.
Is there really any pressure to rush?
To get it done fast.
To finish it in a month or six.
I ask this because there’s a popular contest and a thousand books that say we should be able to get it done in a month.
But is that fair, with life, love, and everything else on the line?
Perhaps 42 weeks is more accurate.
One chapter, 1200 words. Published every week.
Slow and steady wins the race. 🐢
But there really isn’t a race.
It’s just you, and the previous you, the one that used to race.
The one that used to think Time was running out.
And the “you” that knows its an infinite game,
Because you know that you’ll write until the end of time.
Until words lose their meaning, sense, or rhyme.
Because you’re a writer and that’s what you do.
Doesn’t really matter if you’re any good.
It would be nice. Don’t get me wrong.
But you’re perhaps, like me, the incorrigible sort, the indefatigable kind, the relentless unflappable, should-be-committed type, that just won’t give it up.
Not for all the tea in China.
Not for fame or fortune, because we’ll not likely have either.
No, we’re here for the words.
The herds of them, the piles of them, the nice orderly lines of them.
The ones that capture hearts, and turn minds, and the ones that spin fantasies like spiders can.
Or the heavy clunky, ponderous ones, that boom and bang and blast their way through violence and action.
Or the tender ones, tracing lines of tangible attention. That stroke and tickle, tease, and twist. Those that tango, two by two.
We’re here for the words.
And the word nerds.
Those that can’t help but devour, like a truffle-sniffing swine, rooting out a darn-good read, slurping and sucking down a good sentence sauce and all.
Yes, we’re here for the readers.
But not for the money, the fame, or fortune.
We’re here until the end, there’s no rush, no pressure.
We’ll write if we suck, we’ll write if we don’t.
We’ll write.
And that’s all that matters.
One word after the other.
Keep writing.
Keep reading.
Have fun.
💜