Pardon the mish mash of thoughts that are about to follow, but I need a place to think out loud and clear my head. My last post was about being a content producer and I’m fine and dandy with that most of the time. However, I had an email from a friend who told me (I’m paraphrasing) “stop writing for the small amounts here and there and write the book you want to read.” The same week, another dear friend told me “I don’t want to see you waste your talent by stopping and doing social media exclusively.”
I respect the hell out of both of these women. I adore them. And I take what they say to me very seriously, as I know it comes from the heart and with my best interests in mind.
What is the book I want to write? What is the book I want to read? Where am I supposed to go in this world of writers and tell this story, when I don’t know what story I want to tell. I’m not reading fiction right now. There’s been nothing drop in my lap that excites me. I am reading non-fiction and have a serious stack of self-help books on my end table. Believe me, I don’t want to write a self-help book, because I just don’t know if I could handle the Sex and the City style mocking that happens in every book store in existence.
Quite honestly, I’m struggling.
I could go on, ignoring the voices of these dear friends. But, I can’t ignore them. You see, they are in my head, nagging me, every single waking moment, of every single day. Even now, the voices are ricocheting around in my gray matter, making me cry. I don’t even know how to go about figuring out what the book I want to write is. I also know I can’t sit here and ignore those voices firmly entrenched in my thoughts.
What I do know is I have to figure it out.