I think that one of the hardest parts about being a writer is realizing that, at the end of the day, it’s far more satisfying to have written than it is to write. That’s not to say that some writers don’t love to write. Personally I’m blessed by the fact that I usually find the process a pleasant one.

But what the average person thinks it means to “be a writer” is usually all about the things you can only get from having written, and very little about the process.

Everything that it takes to be successful: a publishing deal, your synopsis, blogging, log lines, etc. etc. are the result of the act, but the act is the writing itself, and in the moment you are doing it, you have nothing but the work.

Being able to transform your writing into the have written is the reason that you need to sit down at the desk every day (or as close to that as you can possibly get), because it takes time and effort to transform yourself into someone who can write regularly and improve even though there are a million reason not to do that. And those reasons will swarm through your mind every time you contemplate getting your butt in the chair. (Not to mention the entire internet.) Becoming a writer is the act of channeling desire into momentum.

And really writing can steal away your life, your friends, your lovers, and the world itself. All the things you care about most can conspire against you, and if they win you will not have written.  Worst of all, the things you have to lose by doing it are real, and some of them are valuable. And worse than that, when people tell you that you’re obsessed they’re absolutely right.

To have written, you must write in spite of everything , and spite is bad for you, and worse for others. But however you make it work, it’s only what you have written that you can read, and share, and use to prove that you are actually a writer.

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