T I M E M A N A G E M E N T
The first reason, simply stated, is that the writer feels good
while writing (or, conversely, feels wretched when denied the
opportunity to write). For some, writing seems to be almost an
addiction or a compulsion, although a relatively harmless one as
addictions go.
The second set of reasons basically cluster around the notion
of communication and storytelling: “I have something to say, and
a novel seems to be the best way to say it,” or “I’ve got a story I
want or need to tell.” Some folks even say that the story seems to
be using them to get itself told.
The third set of reasons stems from the notion, sadly mistaken,
that novelists become rich and famous with relatively little effort.
Many of the folks in this group don’t want to write a novel; they want
to have written a novel, so they can reap the supposed rewards.
Most of the folks in the first category and many in the second
actually go on to write that novel. Few in the third group ever do.
Occasionally you would hear a reason that doesn’t fall into any
of these categories.
“My English teacher back in good old P.S. 134 said I’d make a
good novelist,” one might say, or “Folks in my book group think
my life story would be inspirational.”
Assuming that they aren’t being coy, that they don’t really mean
“I think I’d make a great novelist,” or “I think my life story would
be inspirational,” an appropriate response to this sort of reason
borders on Mom’s old admonition: “If somebody told you to jump
off a cliff, would you do it?”
The key here is the source of the motivation. We generally
don’t need to force or trick ourselves into performing actions that
are internally motivated. But the more the motivation comes from
the English teacher or the book club or the mate or the boss or any
other external source, the less likely we are to do it.
Know anybody who got into the family bakery business,
or became a lawyer, or joined the Marines because somebody
expected or demanded it? If so, you probably know an unhappy
baker or lawyer or Marine.