The day was overcast, a little chilly and probably not what anyone would consider a great "beach" day, but perfect for me. I wasn't there to tan. I wasn't even there to get wet. The bench pictured was a resting place in between a long, brisk stroll I took the other day along the Seacoast of New Hampshire to take in the salt air, hear the rhythmic sound of the waves and clear my head enough to get back to writing.
Now that word about my writing has apparently begun to spread as evidenced by the significant leap in views to my website, I feel just a tad pressured to be more productive. That's more productive in the midst of the publicity campaign that is taking shape for Book One. One would think the bulk of the work lies in the hands of my publisher and publicist, but the reality is that a writer is just as responsible for their own marketing and that, in itself, could be a full-time job. Meanwhile, I just finished the edits of the final proofs of Book One, sent off Book Two and am trying to simultaneously write Books Three and Four.
Sounds like a lot, I know, and it is. No matter what you read about the ease of the writing life and how it doesn't feel like work, writing is work - that is, if you want to be taken seriously and make a career of it. It takes time, discipline, confidence, and sacrifice. But the satisfaction that comes from signing a book contract or seeing my name on the cover page is incomparable. It is the most honest and truthful thing I've ever done. And that's what I think separates writers from the rest of the world - we write because it's the most honest thing we can do.