Who Needs This Madness, Anyway?

by Catherine Dilts

I have asked myself, why write fiction? This pursuit feels so anonymous and unrewarding at times. I could settle into retirement. Enjoy travel, hobbies, and leisure.

During the past month and a half, my writing routine has been disrupted multiple times. First, by our two-week Alaska trip, next various writing meetings and workshops, and finally, participating in the 24 Hours of Palmer Lake endurance event. Did I mention downsizing our rarely used fifth wheel trailer for a more manageable RV, and the wheeling and dealing that required?

Obviously, more travel is in our future.

Catherine, husband Leonard, and traveling companion George

So why keep writing? Why spend time on attending writing events and zoom meetings? Not to mention outlining, endless revisions, seeking publication, and self-promotion?

During the most recent five-day hiatus, I discovered the answer. I am miserable if I’m away from my writing for too long. I have projects on my agenda that have great meaning. To me, if to no one else.

The travel and the time off? It doesn’t reduce my appetite for artistic agony. It fuels the desire to create, giving me new energy and ideas. 

Late August in Alaska is not summer

Without those breaks, I’ll admit I do get burned out. So I suppose I have to accept that life isn’t all work. Time must be carved out for fun and relaxation. Our friends and community have wondered lately why I haven’t made it to recent gatherings. I’m trying to remedy that.

We’re told life requires balance. Sometimes that balance is forced into our schedules. I’ve enjoyed the “disruptions” to my routine. The Alaska trip was wonderful. Connecting with other writers is inspiring. The 24 Hours of Palmer Lake endurance run is insanely fun.

Catherine, daughter Merida, and new friend Andrea in the middle of the night at 24 Hours of Palmer Lake

I had a revelation during the race. Writers and distance runners both share the trait of persistence. The goal may seem far away, but we pursue it anyway. It doesn't matter whether we come in first. It only matters that we complete our personal goals. With relentless determination. Occasional despair. Mild hallucinations. When we cross the finish line, or write The End, all the pain suddenly fades.

We’re ready to tackle the next race. The next short story. The next novel.