I haven’t been writing much.

Which is sad, because I love writing, but everything in my head right now is old. I don’t have any new ideas, the Muse is mad at me ’cause I’ve been going to bed on time, and all my old stories are just kind of… not fresh anymore.

Sometimes I look at authors who have 100+ books published, and I think, “How do they do it?” How are they so successful? How are they able to churn out story after story and have most of them be well-received and enjoyed by millions of people?”

And then there’s me, who doesn’t want to spend all day grinding away at the keyboard. Writing, to me, is something beautiful, something I love, something that brings life to my soul, not my 9-to-5 job that brings in my sole source of income. And if you are one of those 100+ book authors, congratulations on your success. But I’m guessing most of my readers will be more like me.

Sometimes, I can crank out novels like nobody’s business (see: NaNoWriMo). Other times, I can spend years on the same story and still not be able to get it quite right (see: Twelve). And the more I work on such stories, the more I wonder: what if it takes me a lifetime? What if I spend the rest of my years wondering whether I’ll ever make it to the end?

You are not alone. Some of the world’s greatest minds felt the same. *ahem, Tolkien* I think there’s something really special about a story that takes up residence in your heart and never leaves. It’s okay to struggle with it. I certainly have. But maybe that’s what we’re meant to do. Maybe that story needs a little extra love. It’s yours to cherish and nourish and hold on to.

Let me tell you a story.

I wrote my first novel when I was fourteen. It certainly is the worst novel I’ve ever written, but I was so proud of it. I never thought it would turn into a series, but I loved it so much, I kept adding to it.

Six and a half books later, I’ve finally reached “The End.” The series has come to a close, but none of them are published. They live only inside my heart. And my computer, but that’s not as romantic. But I’m still not finished, because the story still isn’t right. It’s not complete. Sure, there are holes and plot problems and other things that will get fixed as I keep editing them, but my journey with this story is far from over. I still have so much to learn, so many characters to get to know, and so many things to explore. Maybe it technically reads as a fully fleshed-out series, but to me, there are just too many things missing for me to move on. The world in my head is so much bigger than the world I put onto paper.

And what if it’s too big? What if I never get the chance to write it all down? What if I spend my entire life on this one story, and I still don’t finish it?

Stories, by nature, are bigger than ourselves. That’s why they can be overwhelming sometimes. That’s also why readers are drawn to them. We long for something greater.

And maybe that is part of the author’s journey as well.

Maybe we just have to keep writing, enjoying every moment of this glorious story we have been gifted with.