Sometimes, I’m so cynical about my little attempt to finish a novel before I’m thirty.
I have always wanted to write, since I scratched funny little poems at 5-years-old. I wrote my first fantasy story at age 8, on a spiral notebook while I sat perched in a tree behind our farmhouse.
Now though, plunging ahead with a novel that I’m beginning to really love, I occasionally wonder what’s the point.
Half of my family is full of voracious readers, but the other half (the, um, in-law half) doesn’t read anything ever…. occasionally the paper, but often not even that.
We hear all the time that reading is on the decline. Minnesota Public Radio just did an entire hour on the decline in the publishing industry.
Eeek. And I want to do this, why?
Of course, the answer is, because I have to, and I want to, and I won’t be happy if I don’t.
And David Eggers’ article in Esquire makes me feel so much better! Check it out.