“It’s not the destination,” they say. “It’s the journey.” I have never believed this, at least not for myself. I’ve never fancied road trips or Lord of the Rings or cruises to islands I don’t care about or any other stories/events/situations that depend on me enjoying the journey instead of the place I’m actually going. I live for the destination, for the end game, and I mean that both physically and metaphorically.
As writers, we should love writing, yeah? We should enjoy the process of tearing down worlds, breathing life into characters, creating something our own. I enjoy this well enough, probably more than most “journeys” I could name, but the real satisfaction comes from having written. I live for that sense of accomplishment, for seeing a 200 page stack of fiction bound on my desk.
I am not excited about the massive rewrite I’m working on. If I was excited, I wouldn’t be procrastinating on editing Chapter Six. But I’m super excited about the future finished version of this draft, and how fun it will be to share with a new group of betas, and how I’ll be more confident in this draft versus previous ones.
I’m curious about your thoughts. Do you prefer the writing process, or do you live for the finished product?
On a personal note, my short story Goliath was rejected from its first anthology submission. I guess that’s a whole new journey I’m beginning, and I will definitely prefer the destination!