For the next year, I’ve made a commitment to a second project. When it’s running full throttle, I have to give it the bulk of my time. But I also have to write (have to), so while I’m committed to that other project, I’m forced to keep tighter reigns on my writing commitments. I don’t always like it, but there is a hidden benefit to it: there’s no pressure.
For the next year (and, if I’m lucky, forever), I’m writing for an audience of one — just me. I write what I want to write in the way I want to write it. If I find a reader or two who absolutely love it, aces, but even that can’t be the goal.
Here’s another thing: I’m a strange bird. I’m okay with it, but that doesn’t mean I’m for everyone.
When you’re strange and you do things in a strange way, you get strange looks. That has to be okay.
It’s tempting to try to smooth out your edges, the rough parts that make you abrasive to the grain, but you can’t, and even if you tried, you still wouldn’t please everyone.
I might not like your art.
They might not like your art.
But it’s your art. Without you, it just doesn’t work.