I love writing. I do. It's an escape, an out from the reality of raising four kids.
But these books take time to write. Oh so much time. And the compensation is pretty paltry--at best. I definitely don't write for the money--at least not right now. :) So why do I do it?
It's not because I love having conversations with fictional characters in my head. And it's definitely not because I like revising. And revising. And revising. (So not joking.)
But finding the time to achieve this goal seems to be getting harder and harder. My family sacrifices for it. I sacrifice for it. Sometimes I wonder if it's worth that sacrifice. If maybe I'm putting my own wants ahead of my family. Maybe my books really aren't making a difference.
Because that's what it has to be for me. Every day I pray that something I write will somehow make a positive impact in this world. It's my reason for keeping at this writing thing even through my house gets neglected, my dinners are un-gourmet, and my kids have a scatter-brain for a mother.
I so badly want there to be more good, uplifting books out there. For me, for my kids, for everyone. This world needs more light, and I want to contribute to that--even if it's only 5 watts worth. I'm a firm believer that everyone has been given talents for a reason, that those talents should be used and improved upon in a good way. This is my lifeline.
But when my precarious balancing act tips and falls flat, I can't help wondering: Is it really worth it?
If you're a writer, what keeps you going? If you love to read, what do you love most about books?