Would you consider writing if your only goal was to place the finished work in a drawer when the writing is complete?

A chiropractor friend recently lamented, “No matter how good I am at being a chiropractor, I still need to market my services.”

I was astounded anyone could ever think being good enough at something would eliminate the need for marketing it.

Then I realized a hidden ego goal of my writing: Write well enough that it prospers—on its own.

Oops.

A talented artist friend has no trouble getting into galleries, but she also wants to sell her work. She thinks she shouldn’t have to market. After all, the "hard" work is done—the creating. The trouble is she's the one with the extensive database of contacts. She has the list of previous clients who will visit the galleries, not only to see, but to buy her work.

If you gave birth, would you claim your work is finished as a parent? Is it not generally understood that mothering means birthing and raising the baby?

Would you prepare the ingredients for dinner, then expect dinner to cook itself?

Would you put your children on the school bus without expecting them to go into class they arrive?

Of course you wouldn't.

Regardless of occupation, thinking we can give birth to something, then sever our tie and expect it to prosper on its own is a false belief. It's also insane.

Now, I know writers can be an insane bunch. (Writer me feels at liberty to share this: I’m just as crazy as the next person.) But this belief is actually a facet of ego manifesting in a specific form. I keep saying I should conduct a "Recovering from your novel" workshop. Not because I'm a novelist, but because it seems clear no other occupation is saddled with the "have the baby and walk away" mentality than artists—especially writers!

I’m rewriting some essays for a book proposal. I’m entertaining myself by noticing the ego desire to "just write" without anticipating and completing the accompanying steps—you know, prospering what I'm working on so hard.

It’s easier when I go back to thinking about birthing and raising a child. These are two distinct parts—and whether the child prospers depends greatly on how well I do each part.

It's possible the finished writing work could end up in a drawer. But I'm not putting it there until I’ve done both parts to the best of my ability.  It's an art and a business.