Okay, I get it. I'm taking this writing thing too seriously. I know I didn't start out that way. I remember writing short little stories when I was kid on my Dad's electric typewriter. I was swimming in sci-fi and fantasy visions even then. I can still remember the hum of the machine, the heavy striking of the keys that sent hammers out to cover the page of paper with letters, and inevitable use of the whiteout function. My dad brought home scrap paper that I used to tap out the little stories when I wasn't filling them with scribbles and pictures.
There was no thought for plans or hashing out details of career building. I mean, I was a little kid. I was having fun playing with the typewriter. I was using my fertile imagination to create. I rekindled that fun years later when I started messing with comic book writing. I wrote a short story in school. It was the only one I wrote and finished. Nothing more came of this thing called writing until I had consumed a fair amount of fantasy fiction. I am talking Tad Williams, David Eddings, and, yes, Robert Jordan. Epic stuff.
I started a novel and, a long time later, I did finish it. I've told that story enough. I've done tons of freelance writing, including articles and ebooks. I've written lots of short stories. I've written nonfiction and fiction books. The point is…I have been writing. I keep writing posts about how I'm having so much trouble writing, but I have produced a body of work. Am I meeting some self-imposed expectations? No. No, I'm not. And you know what? That is really okay. Or at least it should be.
I keep setting these goals and laying out expectations that I consistently fail to meet. Why do this? I reason that I need some level of organization if I am going to be consistent producing work and then finding paths to publication for the work. That's the more sophisticated thinking that I've picked up listening to other pro writers and since I became publisher.
But, I've misplaced the fun parts. I've got to recover the fun parts. So, I will keep writing.