I’ve done this to myself about 3 times now. You’d think I’d have picked up on this little habit earlier, but nope. I’ve gone through this year by year, blissfully unaware that I’m shooting myself in the foot.
You see, there’s this organization called the Elizabeth George Foundation, and if you send them all sorts of writer-y stuff, they might choose you to receive some sort of stipend to help us writer types out. It might be money to take a trip to a location in your book so you can write about it from first-hand experience, or maybe even enough money to work only part-time that year so you can have more time to write. It’s pretty awesome, but you have to snail mail them for information about their requirements. And, of course, since they’re giving away a serious chunk of change, the requirements are pretty intense.
And this will be the third time in a row that I’ve failed to prepare myself for what they need. I actually didn’t even bother to mail them this time. There’s no way with how slow of a writer I am that I’ll have a pitch ready in time (not to mention I’m also job hunting, figuring out apartment stuff, and planning last minute details for my wedding next month).
I’d like to think that I can give myself the benefit of the doubt for not applying this year, but I can’t. It’s literally been the first thing on my to do list for at least 5 months.
Today the little thought popped into my head that maybe, just maybe, I’m “forgetting” on purpose. Digging a little deeper I’ve realized that while I’ve been working my heart/mind/fingers to pieces on writing sitcoms (okay, one sitcom, sheesh, stop the glares!) I’ve totally let my books slide, like I’ve been neglecting my characters and they’re sitting in a corner of the room, staring at me, slowly dying.
Okay, so that’s a bit dramatic, but still, if I want to be published (and I do) I need to take it seriously. I need to take myself seriously. If you love something, you make time for it, right?
Why am I not doing that with writing?