When the surge of emotions is high, I try to jot the feelings down. Sometimes, it take a shape of beautiful poem, sometimes it is just a meaningful quotations. Some are named as blogs and other are termed as stories. Each piece of writing holds not only the story of the past but of the future and present as well. The improved skills and the scope of future can be seen in each one of them.
At times I am eager and impatient to get them published; at times I hold on and want to cherish and grow more. I wonder the difference between a budding writer and an established author. There are many I read about who are successful with the first and many who have written thousands but never heard of before.
Success for some is a book published as an author, for others it’s the sale and for the rest it’s the fame. I wonder which one is true or all holds their own value. Making money with the writing is termed as success or getting the respect and recognition is. The more I think, the confused I am.
Whether to publish or not is a tough decision. Traditional or self-publishing is another question. How confusing the world is. My writings hold my feeling. Healthy criticism is accepted but demeaning is restricted. Am I ready to open to the rotten words which are sure to come? What about the fame and success that it would bring?