Self Doubt, Laziness or Over-scheduled Life?

Every summer I try hard to write a crap ton then I edit through the school year when work occupies my brain the most. At the beginning of the summer, my daughter asked if this was going to be another "mommy hidden behind her laptop" kind of summer. And it hasnt been.

I would like to say I have spent most of the summer trying to make great memories for my kids, which has been the primary objective. But little parts of me thinks I will never be good enough to write "real" books, so I left my writing in pursuit of making everyone else happy. I have helped with my nephews, my sister, my so called friends, and most of all I have helped my kids and hubby to have as much fun as possible. But I always leave out me.

I love to write. I love the idea of transporting someone to a place and time of my creation giving the reader reasons to care about the characters and forgetting all the stress of their real life. I love to read. I love an author who can engulf me in someplace or time that I would never experience in my lifetime.

I want to be a published author but more than that I want someone, anyone to enjoy the words I have written, to love and hate my characters and to not know where the story will take them.