About Loving Something You Love

Post 1734:

I have four or five finished novels I’m not sure the world will ever see. By world, I mean even fewer people than see the ones I actually publish. There’s a few reasons for this.

I’m not one of these writers that gets all in love with my work. I love the work, but I’m not in love. I want it to be better than it is, like I want myself to be better. This can be rewarding. It can also suck and be counterproductive. Loving someone or something doesn’t always lead to best outcomes. I see people that love their kids so much they end up yelling them at games or pushing them too hard. Comes from a good place, ends in a bad one. Same with stories and creations. Support can turn to strangulation unless you watch that shiz like a hawk.

It should be easy to love something that you love. This sounds stupid, but seriously. It should be. And it’s not. If you love a thing too easy it will turn bad and end up kicking you in the backside.

So what about that work still sitting in my drawer? I love a lot of it. Others might do the same. It’s hard to say, but it needs more something. That’s okay. I’ll never give up on a story I was willing to make a novel. I’ll rewrite it a thousand times. Time is the problem. Really, the biggest problem. All you can do is hope for the right time to find the right kind of love. Cheers and see you after.