I Wouldn't Fight Sharks But...

Some days I consider what bizarre genes I inherited that drive me to get up at ridiculous hours to punch letters on a keyboard and fill a blank screen with stories that evolve from, as my mother has asked, where exactly?  Renovations have taken over the house.  Considering the fact that my office is now off limits until painting is finished - shouldn't I take a break?  Wouldn't any sane human being?

Temporary - repeat - temporary office

Apparently not.  Even with my office reduced to an old style end table that is three steps from the dust bin and is barely wider than my laptop when the kitchen table is in use - I write.  Yes, the life of the displaced and apparently insanely determined writer.  Currently, I'm sitting on the floor with my feet tucked under me - guaranteed to cause circulation stoppage at some point.  A little pile of research books are teetering on the upper shelf of the retro piece of furniture that's now my desk.  I really should do something about them before they topple.

What drives one forward to write no matter what the conditions?  Even through all the frustrations and confusion of today's publishing industry.  I muddle through posts of self-publishing as opposed to mainstream publishing, the shelf life of paper books as opposed to e-reads and my head spins.  When I've determined one path there are others trumpeting another.  Some days it's easier to write than to step onto the constantly changing field that we now call the publishing industry.  But that's another post.

Publishing is frustrating.  There, I said it.  Published or not - getting published isn't easy.  Carving a career isn't easy.  A sane person would give up.  Wait, yes I did mention that sanity factor - a hereditary thing that I blame on some distant relative.  Possibly the miserable looking great great great something or other whose picture indicates that she might have fought sharks single-handedly to get to America.  The story goes that she was a United Empire Loyalist and that's what brought her to Canada.  I tend to think, from the look on her face, that the States might have thrown her out.  Any way you look at it - that woman's determined.  Maybe I get it from her. 

Still,  my resolve faltered a few times as the household turmoil continued. Then it happened!

I had a wow moment.  It came completely unexpectedly, as these things tend to do.  Someone acknowledged what I do every day - in a big way.  More on that later.  I was left with what I call the wow factor.  In fact, that's the only word that came to mind.  It certainly killed the 5:00 a.m. writing habit for 24 hours or so.  After all, there's only so many times you can write wow!

What keeps you going through life's distractions?

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com