Recently I had a conversation with one of my art teachers, and it started me thinking about this subject of aspirations.
My teacher is a pro artist, and she’s at a place in her career where she doesn’t need (or desire) to exhibit her work. Exhibiting takes a lot of time and effort–as does marketing for writers. She’d rather spend her time creating art.
As a writer, I can relate to that. My time seems more limited now than ever before. Time is so precious, and personally, I’d rather spend it creating new stories instead of trying to sell the ones I’ve already written. I’m lucky to have that choice now–it’s a luxury, and it hasn’t always been that way.
But back to my art teacher… It seems to me that creating art is a personal journey. A beginning artist may not want the world to see his/her creation and perhaps would never dream of aiming to sell. When I started painting, it was for the sheer pleasure and sense of fulfillment of creating those stick figures. Go figure!
But I’m not sure it’s the same for a writer. Why does a writer write, if not to share those tales with an audience one day? Sure, there’s pleasure and fulfillment and all sorts of personal rewards, but I’ve never met a single *fiction* writer who hasn’t looked forward to reaching a marketable level one day.
Of course it’s different for everyone. As for me, I aspire to capturing those fleeting stories that dance around in my head the best way I know how, and then making them available for a potential audience. That’s about it. The next book, which comes out later this fall, will pretty much have to find its own way in the marketplace, which is pretty similar to my teacher’s position with her lovely art.
What about you? What do you aspire to?