I'm smart enough to know that chances of getting published quickly in fiction are shrinking with the continuing changes in the publishing world. Editors are more reluctant to buy because of the economy. They want those million dollar books, even though they aren't quite sure what they might be. Still, I'm stubborn enough to continue to submit fiction whenever I see someone is buying what I have.
Over the past few years I've come to the conclusion that I may never see all the books published that I've written. That leads me to think perhaps I shouldn't write any more fiction, but rather concentrate on getting published. What I desire is to be in the middle of a book when the end comes, but when I think about that I get upset. My wonderful words cut off before the ideas are completed?
So, perhaps for this year, I must simply charge forward as if I'm twenty something and have tons of years ahead of me. For none of us really knows, do we, how much time we have left.
I lost a dear friend this year, an outstanding, talented writer who was much younger than I am. She left this earth trailing bright stars across the universe. Her short stories will long endure and that's all any of us can ask, as writers. That our words endure.
So to all my writer friends and those readers who enjoy my work, I can only say, be who and what you want to be for as long as you can. May the coming year find you reaching for the stars.