Back at the Desk: Finding My Way Home Through the Woods

I am writing fiction again, and it feels like home.

I spent much of the late spring and summer on writing-adjacent tasks—all of which were important—but writing fiction is what truly brings me joy. And it is amazing to be back at it. Also strenuous, difficult, and frustrating, but those things are a necessary part of the process. You have to trudge through the mess to get to the magic. I learned that from a writing teacher, and she couldn’t be more right.

For me, not writing as a daily practice feels a bit like wandering around, a little lost.

One of my big projects this summer was weeding through the piles of notes and notebooks filled with partially written novels. I have several. There are reasons for this. Not necessarily good reasons, but reasons. But also very good reasons. Writing is joyful and exhilarating and energizing, but it’s also really challenging (*see above). Sometimes a new idea screams at me loudly enough that I must give it attention—think, toddler in the grocery store pitching a full-blown paroxysm. Other times, a story simply stops flowing (spoiler: this always happens) and the temptation to start over with something new, bright, and shiny is irresistible. But other times, it has to do with a publication schedule change that really makes sense for your readers or your overall catalog.

See—reasons.

As I trudged through the mess of notebooks and sticky notes, I got to thinking about the why of writing. Why do I do it? Why does any writer?

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