Of course, the comments in the post reflect my gut reaction. Most every writer who commented said that writing for them is a way of life and what isn't worth it is the risk of not writing. I have to admit, sometimes I have my doubts. When the rejection letters keep pouring in, I think, maybe I should find something else to do. Maybe I should focus on my day job and make a career out of it because that I seem to be good at. But, instinctively, I reach for the pen.
It is my home, the place I go to when all else has failed. When I'm down and feeling lonely, the pen is always there to comfort me. The characters I create never let me down, they don't end the relationship because they don't feel anything for me anymore, they don't walk out of my life unaware as to the regret they may feel later. They are there, always and forever.
Not being published will never stop me and even if I never get published, I will never stop writing. Just today, I finished writing the draft of my second book and it is an accomplished feeling I will never let go. I sometimes forget this feeling is there. When I struggled through some of the scenes, I forgot about they joy that's waiting for me when I pushed through. Now here I am, ready to take the manuscript to the next step. Here I am, a pasted smile on my face because I did something I love to do. I wrote a story that means something to me even if it doesn't mean anything to anyone else and it is something I will never give up.
Is the writing life worth it? I think the more appropriate question is: Is breathing oxygen worth it? Because that is what writing is, it is oxygen giving me life.