I used to think that getting a publishing contract would be the end of my struggles as a writer. Of course, now I have one, I see that it is only a way point on the road to becoming…

What?

Being published was my goal. It has happened. Now I must find a new goal. I have some ideas:

First and foremost, I have to fulfill my end of the contract–to produce four novels of at least 120,000 words each for the Song of the Arkafina cycle. And I have to have the last one ready to go by the end of next year. Quite a tall order. I feel a subtle shift in my thinking. Whereas before I wrote for me, and I told myself that I was the only one I really had to please, now I have others who depend on me to produce a quality product. I can’t be haphazard. I can’t be a dilettante. But at the same time, I will see no financial reward for my efforts until next July, when my royalties will be distributed for the first time. Writing is not my hobby anymore, but my first paycheck is a long way away.

My next goal is to sell my writing by whatever means I can. This means getting out there and marketing myself, something I am not altogether comfortable doing.

My third goal is to keep practicing my craft. I want to get better and better, and keep my output high.

But where does all this lead? Am I after success?

When I was unpublished, my definition of success was to get a publishing contract.

Now, I really don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t have a clear idea of where my writing career should go or how to get there. It is a strange place to be.

add to furl :: Digg it :: add to ma.gnolia :: Stumble It! :: add to simpy :: seed the vine :: :: :: TailRank

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