Posted in Writing

Writing is a strange business

Every time a non-writer friend shares an article about the writing industry, I’m struck anew by how strange this business is. For a job that seems like a dream, the reality is different from about any other job I have held.

In the work world, I was expected to work for a certain number of hours and at the end of that period, I received money. As an author, I can spend hours and hours and years working on a manuscript and receive nothing except a pile of paper to support the dust bunny colony hiding under the bed.

Sometimes, it’s hard to know when to give up on the manuscript under the bed. In my work world, either a time clock, a deadline, a boss or a shift in corporate culture let me know when it was time to stop. Now, I can’t tell if the manuscript call is an authentic need to revise, or merely a distraction and there is no-one to tell me.

I’m trying to move forward with newer projects, but some days, that manuscript calls out and the ghost of a character whispers “but what if you…”

If I stop cleaning long enough, maybe the dust bunnies will finish off the project.


where the heart finds a home