Here lately, when I sign books or speak, people look at my stack of books or my banner with all 19 books and say, “Wow, you must have some kind of work ethic to make yourself write that many books.” Only one person in five years or more has recognized my reality when they said, “You treat this as your job, don’t you?”
Absolutely yes.
You do not accidentally get successful.
You do not suddenly become known.
You do not write books overnight.
You do not short cut the process of writing well.
You do not stop reading good books or improving how well you write.
You do not “get discovered.”
The books do not sell themselves.
You have a greater chance of winning the lottery rather than suddenly becoming famous as a writer.
But it isn’t all negative. The positive is you love writing. You love publishing. You love pushing stories into the world. But if you want this exercise you love so much to become a career. . .
Decide why you write.
Decide why you want to be read.
Decide what your long game is as a writer.
Decide where you want to be in one year, two years, three, and more.
Decide to commit daily to the job.
There has to be a work ethic . . . there has to be a plan.
Jennifer Mills Kerr says
I’ve taken a screenshot of your “you do not…” list to print & place on my writing desk. Very inspiring! TY
Daniel P McGinley says
Hell yeah, I believe it was Thomas Wolfe who got up early and put on a very nice suit and went to work (his desk at home) writing every day, using that mental practice of dressing for a job to do his job of writing. I get so furious when people want me to do something because they think I can just break away from writing at any given time and jump back in, and it never ends. At the risk of divorce etc, I often have to relent, but I also hit the hell out of a heavy bag for very good reasons, while my book gets delayed and my mind gets messed-up because of such things. And the worst part is when they ask, “When is that ever going to be finished? Onward and back to it . . . the balancing act of life. SMH and onward . . .