My wordcount is slowly on the rise. Every day I try to beat my previous day’s best, hoping to eventually get up to my target goal of 1000 words written and 3000 words edited each day. I don’t know why it’s so difficult to keep up my motivation. I like my stories. I like my characters. I do want to succeed as a writer and one day make my living from it. I guess it’s because there’s just so much fear and doubt surrounding it. So much competition, so many ways to remain obscure and undiscovered.

I’ve been debating selling my business for awhile now. I don’t really enjoy what I do for a living (translated: day job). It certainly pays the bills. Keeps a roof over my head. I’ve been able to pay down my mortgage on my vacation house this year by thousands of dollars. I should have it paid off by Christmas. I’ve looked at the job market in my retirement town. It has a good potential for me landing a job. School teacher. Banker, maybe. Maybe work in the Social Work field.

I keep going back to writing, though. That’s what I really want to do. Not these other things. It’s such a long shot, though. Who am I to think I have a good enough book for people to buy from me? Despite the fact that I already have a trickle of sales from my first book. I guess at this point it doesn’t really matter what I end up doing. It only matters that I hit my goal today, or at least, I’m working toward hitting my goal sometime in the future. I might land that perfect job that I love showing up for every day. I’ll have enough between savings and the sale of the business to relax and not rush at the first job offer I receive. There’s a lot of factors at play, and any kind of decision is a year or more away.

But, today, the one sure thing I can do is write.

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