I’m not one of those people who love the word “balance.” In fact, when people say it like a prayer, “It’s about balance, Ev . . . balance,” my gag reflex kicks in. But this is a flaw in me, I suspect, nothing to do with the lovely word or concept behind it at all. I think my response is triggered by a guilty conscience. I am, too frequently, topsy-turvy, helter-skelter, over or under weighted, definitely all-or-nothing in my approach to life. I over indulge my passions . . . and (sometimes, often times) starve the shoulds, musts, smart-tos in my life. Ah, well . . . I think there was a wise line about knowing thyself once upon a time.

Anyway, why this rant about balance? Because I realized recently that my writing life is like a teeter-totter stuck on the ground by a very solid, much bigger than me friend. A dear friend. A beloved friend (originally misspelled as “fiend”—does that mean anything, I wonder?). A FUN (all caps!) friend. A friend I would never want to leave the playground—my writing itself.

At conferences, in blogs, during author talks, etc., more established authors often talk about the importance of creating and maintaining a writing habit. They warn—rightly—of the danger of talking about how-to-get published, daydreaming about being published, overdosing on reading and studying about writing and publishing and not actually doing the work, not writing. Writing is the first and most important thing, they say. The only thing, really, 100% necessary for an eventual writing career. And, again, I completely agree, and have met too many “aspiring” writers who, actually, uh . . . it still confuses me . . . don’t write.

However, there’s a less talked about, but equally stymieing condition afflicting those who profess to want to write as a living (usually so they can write more, not because they care about the money other than as a necessity for stuff like, say, heat and toilet paper). They don’t submit enough. Or at all. They have the writing routine nailed. They craft several short stories, a novel or two, plus non-fiction essays and thoughts, a year . . . They might even work each piece through a couple drafts, so they’re pretty solid bits of work . . . and then, nothing. They happily move into their next story’s world because writing is about the writing, don’t you know?

Well, I do know. And I totally believe that. Celebrate it. Love it.

So imagine my horror when I realized that, yikes, I’ve become one of those people who talks about wanting to write as a career, but doesn’t do the work needed. Only, in fact, does half the work (the most important part though, I still brag). I write. Regularly. Amass quite a few words, even. (Er . . . actually the example two paragraphs ago was taken from my own life.)

But I fall down in the submissions department. Terribly. Yes, I have quite a few short stories out in the world now, along with some non-fiction, and a novella under a penname (hopefully to be joined by a sister story very soon!)—but I’ve been writing for years. I have multiple novels and a myriad of short stories that I’ve sent out a few times, then put away—and they’re stories I still believe in. I’m not talking about my file of those-that-shall-not-be nameds.

And why do I wimp out and epic-fail in the business end of the writing life? Well, there’s probably a lot of complex reasons, but let’s boil it down. I’m insecure. But aren’t we all? And isn’t life short? Yes, and yes!

Usually at this time of year, I’ve just returned home from SiWC, primed to work and wildly inspired anew. And now, despite not attending the conference this year, it’s like my body and brain remember. I weirdly, no doubt because of the company I kept in London, feel a similar November-surge of refreshed motivation and commitment.

I don’t regret the time I spend “merely” writing—it’s the most essential part of storytelling, and I’m still learning how to do it—but it’s time for me to find a balance. (Gag!)

I want the teeter-totter to work as it should, an exhilarating ride of constant motion . . . so, yes, I will keep exploring new thoughts, new ideas, new worlds through new words and stories . . . but I will put more weight behind the business part of my writing, the polishing and shining, the submitting, submitting, submitting.

What about you? Do you relate to my teeter-totter at all? If so, which end do you need to add more weight to?

P.S. Just saying “SiWC” here made me realize I have to attend in 2014! Unless I “must” go overseas again, ahahahahahahahaha! 😉