I’ve written three novels. All three I wrote with the intention of one day being able to publish. But prior to that, before writing became something serious, I used to write whatever I liked. I used to write for me. And maybe it was awful and sappy and usually a reflection of whatever I was feeling at the time… but something in me really wants to do that again. I want to write something just for me, with no pressure of the word “agent” or “publishing” over my head. I just want to churn out a novel that is everything that I want it to be. And then it will get lost somewhere on my hard drive and never see the light of day.
When was the last time you wrote something just for you? Something you had no intention of revealing to the world? And what stops you from doing it? Because it does have that sensation of wasting time doesn’t it?