Wednesday, October 7, 2009

No more politics. But I'm not sure that writing about writing isn't more depressing.

I am currently of the opinion that being a writer pretty much sucks.

It isn't so much the rejections from publishers and agents although I certainly won't pretend I don't get my share of those. Don't we all? Boring subject.

What is the hardest for me and it seems to me for most writers is the way we beat ourselves up. I do. I'm not good enough. I'll never be good enough. There are days--weeks when I'm convinced that the best thing I could do is torch everything I've ever written.

Ugh! Self-pity is not a pretty sight. But it seems to be par for the course. Heck, even with my very small successes I've had more success and praise than a huge number of the writers out there in the slush pile. I really have no reason for having a pity party, except...

There are those days when I am convinced that what I've done is good--darn good. Better than 99% of what's out there so why don't people see it?

There are those days when (see above) I'm convinced that everything I've ever written is dreck.

There are days when I'm convinced that editors and agents must be crazed to choose to work with writers.

Sorry for whinging a bit. I feel better now and I will finish this new novel by the end of the month. Keep plugging people.

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