I'm up in the middle of the night and not happy about it. Trying to get happy by really thinking (soon, I'll be back in bed thinking) and drinking hot tea with milk. 2nd cup. Still not happy.

I'm wondering about writers' journeys. That's what they are, right? I mean, the minute we think we've "arrived" - whatever that means to you - someone will snatch it out from under you, right? Likely.

My journey started in 4th grade when I met the author of THE OUTSIDERS (SE Hinton) and she inspired my best friend to write, who in turn inspired me. I wrote my first book at 13, after a year of 7th grade torment, and then I wrote in college, too. Boyfriends tended to interfere. At that age I needed angst to fuel my creative juices. But I drew and painted and played all along.

Fast forward to 6 years ago. Four bad books in a couple of years (seriously - about 700K words). Then I fussed with a short story, sent it out, got it rejected, sent it know the drill. And finally sold it. I'm jaded now. Nothing has ever matched that sale, though I've had more since then.

My goal was 8 sales this year. I've had 5. I have everything out with editors currently, so I'm doing my part. But I'm feeling really journeyish lately. I'm mostly okay with it, though obviously I'd like to set off on my book selling journey. But I know award-winning authors who are still struggling for every contract, who have to wait and wonder and maybe get rejected. So I have no illusions that selling a book launches me into something wildly different. More money, perhaps, and opportunity. But writers, more than anyone else, play on a generally level playing field, eh?

So, what's your journey? Where are you and where do you hope it leads you?

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