Today, January 17th, marks the date when, one year ago, I received THE NEWS. The news that I could legitimately call myself a writer. It wasn't just something I did. It was a business now. Professional. Not just a goal, not just a desire sharp enough to take your breath away or a belief that I held on to, sometimes just with my fingertips ... it was real.
I will always celebrate January 17th. In the hurly-burly whirlwind of getting ready for my book launch -- and all the marketing, promotion, and energy I've got to spend to make sure it is as much of a success as I can make it -- it's easy to lose sight of that feeling. The January 17th feeling.
If you're a writer, don't forget it ... it's what keeps us going, when the garbage has to be taken out, or your daughter has a cold, or someone gave you a less-than-accurate and less-than-kind review. It's the reason we lock ourselves up in a room and family members don't see us for hours. It's the reason we miss out on 4th of July baseball games and do our shopping on the internet. Why we don't watch television unless it's TiVo. Why life goes by in a blur, and yet ... we're happy.
It's that feeling.
So when your anniversary rolls around, stop it all, just for a moment or two. Take a deep breath. Maybe make a toast, with or without a glass. This is the reason we work, the reason we strive, the reason we're here. We're writers.
Happy Anniversary. :)