Someone on Crimespace posted Forbes list of highest paid authors. The list contained no surprises: Patterson, King, Rowling… you know the roll call. The comments from the authors who read the list contained even fewer surprises, many of which seemed to have to do with the talents of those who made the list.
But one comment bothered me; it concerned the idea that we all write what will sell.
I don’t think so, not in the main. Otherwise we would all be writing some form of vampire mystery/espionage love stories.
But it all does come back to the question of why we write. Some people write to achieve some kind of catharsis. They were misunderstood loners or people who feel the world should know their story. Others write to fix some wrong along the line of Dickens writing about child labor.
Someone else posted on Crimespace too. He was commenting the struggling writer issue. He made the comment that he had come to writing too late in life to struggle, his struggles were of the average garden variety of trying to keep a job and pay the mortgage. I had to laugh.
No one is out there begging me to write. I write because I want to. The struggle is all in our heads.
The more I write, the more I read, the more I believe we’re all alike. And the race doesn’t go to the best or the luckiest. It goes to the person who is the most satisfied. I’m not sure that has to do with money.