Those of you who have read some of my previous blogs know that I have a passion for words that begin with E. For some reason E words are the most musical -- epistomology, endemic, egregious, ephemeral ... I love the sound of them all. So when I have a legitimate reason to use one of those words, I am always thrilled. (As you have probably guessed, I don't get out much.)

Anyway, yesterday I had an epiphany. The experience itself was wonderful as epiphanies often are, but the music of the word simultaneously dancing in my head made it doubly wonderful.

You see I am writing a book. Nothing new about that. I have been a published writer for fifteen years, and I have 20 titles to my name. I also have a multitude of manuscripts that haven't been published, so the fact that I'm writing a book is not the epiphany. The thing that's different about this book is that I am positively captivated by it. I am totally excited to be writing it. That is not to say that I haven't enjoyed writing all those other books. I have, or I wouldn't have done it.

The thing is that the longer I write, the harder I find writing is. Perhaps it's because I demand more of myself. I try different techniques, hone my skills -- in other words push myself to improve with every book. I think it's important to do that. It's kind of like when I learned to play chess. At first it was a challenge just to remember the manner in which each piece moved, and knocking my opponent's pawns off the board was a huge rush, but as my skills and strategy improved and I was able to see several moves ahead, the game became more difficult -- and less fun.

Before I was a published writer, I wrote only when the spirit moved me, and I wrote only for myself, so writing was always a pleasure. It was something I did to relax. Now writing is my job, and though I love it, I still need it to earn me money, so I'm always strategizing. I'm networking, I'm giving presentations, I'm marketing, and I'm writing books for the purpose of selling them. I still enjoy writing them, but I'm always looking down the pipe.

The book I am currently working on is so different from anything I've written before, that I have no idea who the readers might be, nor what publisher might be interested. I may not be able to sell it at all, and I don't care. This book is for me. If I can get it published, that's a bonus. But I am writing it regardless. It's a story I want to tell and I want to tell it a certain way, not because that will make it appealing to readers and editors, but because it appeals to me.

Writing for myself has recharged my writing battery. It is fun again -- all day and into the night. Each morning I can't wait to get working. Here's where the epiphany comes in. I have been so busy doing what I need to do to be a successful writer that I've forgotten how to write for the simple joy of it. Oh, I still have to play the publishing game and write what's going to sell, but I also need to remember why I ever picked up a pen in the first place. Every now and again, I need to push the pragmatic side of writing aside and write simply because I want to.