I made the mistake today of looking at publishing information again. I’m not sure why I always do this to myself. It happens every time I start getting interested and excited about writing.

I guess it’s in part because I tend to be a goal-oriented person. Some part of me always wants to know what I’m aiming for. That’s not such a bad trait, overall. It does not combine well, though, with someone who is also easily discouraged.

I’m writing five minutes a day to try to rediscover what I enjoy about writing for its own sake. I don’t know that there’s any way to get through the 80-100 thousand words of a novel without the ability to enjoy the process, at least some of the time. I always wind up looking to the end, though. Fantasizing about publishing, selling millions of copies, becoming famous, etc.

I don’t even know if I’d like being famous.

I wonder if it’s really just about seeking validation, as so many artists do. I like it when friends and family read and enjoy the little bits I write when I can. I still doubt the reality of their opinions, seeing them as biased and largely uncritical.

So why is this a bad thing? Having a goal is supposed to be a positive, right?

The problem is that I am so very far away from it. The problem is that being too audience-driven makes me second guess every creative decision I make. The problem is that I am only too aware that very few prospective authors ever have anything published. Even if they do, most of their works are destined for obscurity.

There’s no way I can love writing if I’m only thinking about who it’s going to please, whether or not it’s marketable, and a host of other concerns that go into the “get published” mind set.

I’m hoping tomorrow this state will pass and I’ll be able to just create again.