March 6, 2022

A day doesn't go by that I consider not writing anymore. The notion usually passes quickly, but sometimes it lingers throughout an entire day. I don't mean give it up, exactly, but lowering its priority even more than I have now.

The sensation is not unlike that moment when Forrest Gump, having run from one U.S. coast to the other for 3-plus years, suddenly stops and announces, "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now."

(Click here if you'd like to take a minute and rewatch that moment.)

Forrest ran to leave his past behind, to move on to the next chapter in his life. I suppose that's what I'm feeling. I wrote because it was something I had to do. Maybe I thought I had something to say. But I don't feel that so much anymore. Just as Forrest was done running, I feel I'm done chasing words.

Like the "dilemma" I wrote about last newsletter, it's more a matter of perspective and expectations. No, I'm not going to quit writing. Not all together. But I no longer have any expectations from it.

So what that no one wants to buy and read my novels? They're still out there to be printed or downloaded and enjoyed.

Does it matter that I only have 40 subscribers to this newsletter, and only half of them open their emails each month to read what I write? No. I'm still going to send them out...until I don't feel like it anymore.

Done chasing words? Damn, does that mean I have to come up with yet another title for whatever it is I'm doing here?

Any suggestions?

Gordon Gravley

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