People--as in family and friends--are always shocked to learn that, yes, I've written and completed a novel. Jaws drop, eyes widen, and then lips smile. I'm never sure how to respond to the shock from my peers, but 90% of the time, that's the reaction I receive. Conversations go something like this:
"Yeah, I've written dark fantasy novel."
"Really?"
This question usually repeats despite having just admitted that I wrote a novel.
"Yes."
Despite having repeated myself, I'm always happy that someone shows an interest. I've learned that all writers love to talk about their work, regardless of why someone is showing an interest. Surely some of my friends are shocked because they didn't think I had it in me to write a whole novel, where some are genuinely fascinated that I took the time and energy to do so.
"Wow! Can I read it?"
"If it's your type of story, I wouldn't mind your feedback. I'll just e-mail you a copy and you can look it over. If you like it, keep reading. If not, at least you'll have gained a more intimate peep into my mind."
"Why can't I find it in a book store?"
There's the killer question. I always frown. I have to ask at this point:
"Do you really want to hear everything I've learned about the publishing business? Okay... maybe I'll just sum it up for you. It's hard!"
I'll sometimes go further and explain that before you have a book published (traditionally), you have to have your work edited, either by friends and family, or by a professional. Then after the novel is polished to a nicer gloss, you have to research agents to represent your work, write them a query letter, synopsis, and wait forever only to be rejected time and again. If a writer is lucky enough, someone will bite and the agent will search out publishers on your behalf, your book gets printed and people have a copy in their hands at the book store. The process can take years.
"Wow I never thought about all that. If it's so hard, why do you do it?"
"Why not?"
For me, writing and self expression are the essence of life. When human ancestors first had the capacity for complex thought, we went from tree-dwelling hairy things to bipedal hunter-gatherors. When the necessities of life were met (shelter, food, companionship, etc.) and the world continued to spin, human beings took up permanent residence in specific areas and branched out, growing into communities. Within theses communities, everyone had a role to play to continue to meet the basic necessities of life, but when they all had been met, people started doing something new. People started making art.
Art came before writing, including storytelling. Think about spending long hours indoors in the winter, with no TV or internet, with nothing to do but stare at someone else. Of course people told stories. When time and conditions allowed, people made things. Drawings, sculptures, tunes and functional things began to litter our world. They still do.
But why?
Human beings have a need to be creative. Our brains are hot-wired for it. As we've grown more intelligent over hundreds of thousands of years, we've continued to push ourselves to see where our own creativity can take us. Results, in my opinion, are astonishing. Technology has soared, medicine has evolved to where many diseases can be treated, and the world has been explored at length. Even outer space isn't impossible anymore.
Now what?
So I'm sitting at home on my butt. I'm a housewife. I have two small children. I've spent the last few hours cleaning, attacking the mountain of laundry, and preparing lunch for when the mini-mes get home from Kindergarten. I don't have the energy to do anything but sit for a while, but there's nothing on TV and I just don't feel in the mood to read something. I remember I had a funky dream the night before an I start writing it down in a word document. It takes off, spins, and turns into a full-blown story. I take breaks to meet the needs of my family and myself, but I keep going back to it when those needs are met. I don't care how hard the publishing business is because that's not why I write. I write because I can, I want to, and because it gives me a way to express myself or my ideas, and I can babble ramble away without interruption. Sure, it'd be great to be published someday and I fully intend to keep trying.
The point is you do what you love. I'm sure the first cave painting wasn't created to show off to family and friends. It was made because the person making it wanted to depict what they saw in the world around them. The artist was looking for a way to express his feelings about it.
I have stories to tell, if not for the masses, then for myself. My rational doesn't have to make sense. Maybe there really isn't a point. It doesn't matter.
Dream big. Be creative. Create. Die happy.
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