But do you love it?

Why do I throw myself against a wall, over and over again? Isn’t expecting a different outcome of a repeated action the definition of madness? When radio silence can literally ruin my day, even my week, I ask myself, maybe, have you thought of just kinda…quitting? And the answer comes back, again and again, but do you still love to write?

I don’t love querying. That is for sure. I don’t adore the endlessness of edits (although I have found aspects of this I do enjoy). I dread proofreading, and I certain do not love bad feedback, which is only eclipsed by no feedback.

But do I love writing?

I curse. I struggle. I pace and fret. I glower at my computer and sigh heavily and stay awake at night trying to sort out problems. I groan when yet another weird thread that requires obscure research demands my attention for the story to move forward. (Medieval salt rendering, marriage rites of ancient Germanic pagans, process of decay of human bodies submerged in water, electrical engineering in the 80’s). I can end up obsessed and cut off. My back hurts from hunching over a laptop for hours.

But yes.

I love it.

So there will be no quitting. Not now. Not ever.