The craziest thing about my writing life is how insignificant every day seems. There aren't startling revelations, or juicy secrets, or late nights, or missed birthdays, or bare knuckle boxing matches with my publisher, or all-night coke binges to hit deadline. I work, get home, write, eat dinner, spend time with my wife, and go to bed before 10pm; every night.
There is really nothing worth writing home about at all about my "career". It's boring. It's routine. It's stable.
My "career" is built on putting in 1,000 words a day, or five pages a day, or one issue a day, every day; every single day.
My "career" is built on the idea that there is nothing worse that putting a goose egg on the board and not writing anything for a day. That's it, plain and simple.
And yet, doing that (nearly) every day since 2010 (and really back to dark days of 2006 when terrible writing abounded), I've produced 2 fully realized graphic novels, one published book, and three more novels set for editing.
All from taking small bites every day. Sure there are 10,000 word days in there, and cram sessions, and days when I wrote nothing, but they are rare. Mostly it's just small gains every day over a long time.
Most days it's a slog. Most days feel worthless. Most days I want to give up.
Glad I didn't. Because looking back on it, I'm amazed at how much I accomplished one small bite at a time. Onward!