Uschi Hering|dreamstime.com

Some fights are worth picking. I’ve picked fights with people that cleared the air and improved the relationship, but that’s not the kind of fight I mean. I mean fighting to stay in the game.

I’ve walked away from games I judged not worth the fight: For example, I chose not to struggle through my Master’s Thesis. But I plan to stay in the writing game, even thought it means a constant fight.

Every time someone asks me what’s happening with the book, I put my gloves on—not to defend myself or punch out the person who asked, but to condition myself to stay in the fight. I’m fighting great odds that my writing will never be published. (I know, I could self-publish, but that’s not the game I’m playing.)

Does devoting so much time to fighting for a win in a game where the odds are stacked against me make sense? Let’s not kid around, we win the game I’m playing by landing a publishing contract. So I have to ask myself, if that never happens, how long do I want to keep playing?  

Writing is an art. The creative process is my addiction. Writing brings me joy.

Writing is a craft and a discipline. A poorly cited definition of discipline on Wikipedia contains a graphic depicting a warrior with this caption: To think good thoughts requires effort. This is one of the things that discipline – training – is about. To express good thoughts in a fashion others will pay money to read requires me to hold myself to a standard. I’ve chosen a path with a gatekeeper—an agent, editor or publishers who will judge my work for quality and appeal.
Writing is a life, not a publishing contract. I learn, I grow, and my writing skills improve. I give someone a laugh or a point to ponder; it’s the gift I bring to the table.

I picked this fight and I’ll stay engaged, hoping that like Jacob and the Angel who wrestled until dawn, my muse will make an adjustment that acknowledges my effort and prospers my cause.