So I had something else planned for today. Then I read Nathan Bransford's blog yesterday about the possibility of being crazy.
Um, anyone who knows me wouldn't hesitate to use this word to describe me. In fact, I have a T-shirt that says "crazy doesn't even begin to cover it". Really, I do.
But his post was more along the lines of this crazy dream of getting a book published. I definitely feel this kind of crazy. I've spent hours writing. Even more hours researching the business. Even more social networking. Critiquing. Editing. The whole nine yards.
Is it worth it?
Reading through the comments on Nathan's post, I see how other people endure their crazy moments. I've had a few things conspire against me recently, and I've had to make some priorities in my life.
While cleaning the garage: Is this worth keeping?
When my girl kidlet wants a popsicle and I want to say no: Is it worth the fight?
When the guy in front of me is going five under the speed limit: Is he worth passing? Do I even have room? Why is he only going 30??!!
But seriously. Sometimes I find myself in front of the computer late at night. The fan is on, cuz I like the white noise. The house is asleep. I've played my Bejeweled Blitz. I've read my blogs. I am calm.
And I'm writing. I've never asked myself if I'm crazy for aspiring to be a writer. I already know I'm crazy on many levels.
But every now and then, this question enter my mind: Is it worth it?
What do you think? Why is writing, and aspiring to become a published author, worth it? Whatever "it" may be.