More than anything, you want to be published.  You know how important it is to understand the "business" side of things, so you do everything you should.  And more. You read agents' blogs. You subscribe to Publishers Marketplace.  You post on three boards for writers.  You have an Excel spreadsheet devoted to tracking the comings and goings of agents and editors, which you dutifully update each day after receiving mediabistro.com's "Revolving Door" newsletter.  You know which agents hate queries that begin with rhetorical questions, and which ones like to be addressed as Miss rather than Ms., and which prefer queries with enclosed/attached photos of the querier's dog/cat/hamster/child doing something cute (none).

You worry about platform or lack thereof.  You worry about which trends are nascent and which are cresting and which are way, way over.  You mark the margins of every book you read with notes about why they probably sold.  You worry that if you get "the call" from an agent, it won't be the right call and you won't know enough not to know it's the right call and you won't have the right agent and you'll forever toil in obscurity and... Wait, why did you start down this writing road in the first place?

Once upon a time, you loved books.  You loved to read them so much that you decided you wanted to write them.  So what happened to the love?

In a world where endless information is available about the business of writing, I think it's more crucial now than ever to stay connected with the writing side of writing--the part that made you fall in love with books and words in the first place.  I'm not suggesting that industry knowledge isn't important--I know it is--but such knowledge alone isn't fuel for the soul.  My journey to getting my first novel published took ten years, and what kept me going was an ongoing passion for books, and for stories, and for how books make me feel connected to other people.

Reading and writing, for me at least, are about being human.  I believe good writing grows out of joy for the written word.  Good writing grows out of play.  Good writing grows out of empathy and connectivity and kindness.

In case you're feeling overwhelmed by industry information and disconnected from what led you to write in the first place, here are a few suggestions to help you recapture the love:

Take Joy.
Instead of ruminating over dire statistics about how few books are represented by agents and how few are published and how few earn out advances, join a book group or online discussion board or Twitter chat and gush about a book or genre you love.  Marvel that there are so many people, like yourself, who adore books.  Read aloud sentences of books that you love.  Rip down those rejection letters on your bulletin board and replace them with those quotations.  Chant them, if you have to, until you're enthralled again by words.

Go Play.
Instead of analyzing Very Literary Author's prize-winning novel line by line to dissect how exactly he or she managed to pull off writing from the point-of-view of furniture (the armoire's voice, in your opinion, being the tricky part that cemented that prize win), let yourself fall into the story.  Let yourself have fun.  And if it turns out you actually don't even like reading about sentient furniture, donate the book to a library and go read something you actually enjoy.

Be Kind.
Instead of reading (and then adding to) a 500-post thread on your favorite writer's board about how Very Popular Writer's upteenth sequel is ridiculously derivative of his/her earlier works and so didn't deserve that huge advance, all the while feeling frustrated and powerless because an agent or editor has had your work for four months without responding, go write a letter or email to a writer whose work you do admire.  Or volunteer to read to children.  Or volunteer to help teach adults to read.  Be human.  Be humane.  Your writing will be better for it.  You will be better for it.