Whenever you have a desire for something - a book, a meal, a man - somewhere in the back of your mind your subconscious is deciding how bad you want this particular desire. Is it enough to be happy with the thought of having this out of reach dream, or is the itch to posses stronger? That's when you have to decide, consciously, what you need to do to acquire your wants.
My desire, as it has been for several years, is to be a published author. I write, I submit, I get my rejections. I write some more, I submit some more, I get more rejections. *sigh* That's the life of any person going after their dream. I am okay with this because I know that someday, I will achieve that seemingly elusive dream of publication. I know this.
It's tough, though, when life throws so many roadblocks in your way you begin to wonder if your dream is simply nothing more than mist. You can feel it on your skin, you might catch a taste of it on your tongue, but there is nothing there to grab onto. There is no cup that can contain it as proof that your dream can be real.
Between kids and animals surrounding my ankles 24/7, parents to keep an eye on, a husband to juggle and other stresses that sometimes feel like my life's being strangled right out of me, it's too easy to push my own dream to the side. "There's too much going on right now to dedicate writing time," or "I'm too exhausted to write." These and other similar comments I have used from time to time, but I cannot and will not let them beat me down. I must never let them become placating excuses.
I do count my blessings. I am lucky. I have a family that even though they take my life's blood, they encourage my dream. I have friends who pester the crap out of me to continue to write. I have an endless supply of web sites and author blogs to keep me in the loop, and I cannot tell you how encouraging it is to read about the many, many authors out there who openly tell how they wrote for 5, 10, 15 YEARS before they were published. With all these positives surrounding me, I'd be a fool to not give of myself to my craft.
So I make the time to write and edit and submit. And I'll keep on, through sickness and health, through richer or poorer, till death do I part - I promise you, I want it bad.