Today I don't want to be a novelist. I'm tired of the struggle, the disappointment, the sense of failure. I'm tired of fighting procrastination and insecurity and isolation.

So why not just quit? Because I can't stop writing.

Some people might think that means I'm addicted to writing. Not true. I know what addictions are. I've had a few and, monsterous as they are, it's possible to overcome them, to leave them behind.

Unfortunately, writing isn't simply an addiction. Writing is like the fact that I'm six feet tall. It's something I don't prefer, something I wouldn't have selected given the choice, but something over which I have no control. It's the hand I was dealt, who I am. I'm six feet tall. That's reality. I'm a novelist. That's reality. I must deal with both as best I can.

When I was young I wanted to be a dancer. I believed I had talent and I knew I had heart. One day I shared my dream with my instructor. She told me kindly but firmly that my height would make achieving that dream impossible. I believed her. I quit dance and joined the basketball team. I set new school records.

Today I'm resisting reality. But it's a losing battle. I'm a novelist and must simply make the best of it.


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