I never know what will happen next in life; but I often see the line ahead, the line where the way things are now fades and something new begins. I see that line, my line, coming up at the end of next week. The kids will be out of school for the summer. My new novella will have been just released. The novella I am writing now will have a completed first draft.
The changes coming are a mystery to me. I don’t know what they will be. But I do know *why* they will be. Changes will happen because I have a year of self-publishing behind me. I have learned enough to shift my POV to something entirely different than it was in the beginning. Throughout this process, I have tried to wrestle and pin down what exactly it is that I should do “as an author”. The author I am now is not the author I was and never will be again. I don’t know if I’m pleased about that.
Back in the 90s I wrote all the time. When I wanted to write, I’d write. I’d write in the car, at parks, in restaurants, at friends’ houses, and at work. Words were with me all the time because I carried around a constant obsession with understanding why things were the way they were. My head was full of curiosity and wonder. Writing helped me make sense of the world and our place in it. Not only was that why I wrote, but I think it’s why readers read as much as they do. They crave the right words, the right story, to make it all make sense, or to feel like it makes sense even if we know it’s fiction.
Changes come about when acts and/or expectations are altered. Changes do not always mean things will be done differently. Sometimes it’s just a matter of doing the same things with different expectations. I’m not sure which it will be when I cross over the line I know is coming. But whatever it is, I’m going to accept it and do my best to find peace within it.