A year or so ago I stopped writing short stories. It wasn't because of writer's block - I wrote novels instead. It was because I got a bit bored.
I started again, and I think (only took a year to think it!) I was bored because I wasn't writing for myself anymore.
Don't get me wrong - it is brilliant to be asked to write a story for an anthology, or a magazine. But it's also nice, I think, to write what you want to write, rather than to be restricted by themes or editor's whims.
So, an epiphany of sorts...one that most writers probably already know - write for yourself first, profit second. Maybe that's not true of all writers - but it turns out it's true for me. I need to enjoy what I'm doing. Otherwise, I may as well return to an office and don my suit (the suit's a bit dusty, now). I'm not a big fancy writer. I'm not famous outside of the shed. I make a couple of quid and get a few stories published.
To be honest, I'm a hell of a lot happier this week, writing my little short stories for myself, than I have been with 'writing' for a while. Malaise, ennui...lots of fancy words sum up how I'm feeling about the business side of things. Its not a secret that I find promotion difficult. I don't really like being outside of the shed. I'll do it, because this is important to me. But I don't think I'll ever enjoy it.
I enjoy the making up stories part. That's my favourite.
So, I wrote 'The House of Oak'. And 'Doubloons'. And 'The Giant Inside.' I submitted each story to a professional market. Their response times are slow. But I'm in no rush, so I'll wait. Not with baited breath, like I used to. I'll carry on with the writing bit while I'm waiting. The rest can sort itself.
Happy writing, and two last things before I go...
I love you x,
A picture! (Got to have a picture.)
Bugger. People'll think I'm actually making a point.
Maybe I am. Fucked if I know. Later. x