The summer months are full of extended family gatherings. This year we are celebrating many things: the arrival of our second grandbaby, the engagement of our niece, the departure of my hubby’s brother and wife (moving to Singapore for two years), and a bridal shower for my hubby’s cousin (even though we are not invited to the wedding). Where am I going with all this family information?
With family gatherings come rapid-fire questions about how my writing career is going. Typical questions are something like this:
- “Are you still trying to do that writing thing?”
- “Where is this book I keep hearing about?”
- “Why isn’t your book done yet?”
- “What’s taking so long?”
These questions are often followed by examples of so-and-so publishing their 27th novel this month, and they write three books a year. So, why is my book, which I have been working on for what seems like 100 years, taking so long to write and publish? There is an instant sense of dread or shame. I should stop calling myself a writer and instead watch some movies on Prime or Netflix like everyone else.
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