The writing life isn’t for people with low self-esteem. Here I am, sitting quietly in my living room, watching the National, when into my mailbox pops a rejection message for a story I wrote.
I have a bunch of these, gradually building up the anti-I-love-me wall. (Many members of the military I know have walls of all the certificates they’ve earned, referred to as the ‘I love me’ wall).
I do have one or two nice rejections, a couple of “nearly there’s”, a couple of form notes, and a few long silences.
It’s discouraging.
If only I could write erotica without snorting with laughter! If only writing romance didn’t give me the giggles…and if only I could write the puzzles needed for detective puzzles.
But no, my brain goes elsewhere. It trots down different pathways and makes me ask questions like, hey, what if the Virgin Mary reincarnated? Why would she? What would happen if a poor guy found out he could get food at funerals? What would a twin do if her sister forced her to have a makeover? What would a girl who liked the edges of things do?
It’s all a bunch of odd thoughts that wobble out of my head at different times, and I know what the trouble probably is – I need to refine them more, throw myself into revision and editing and more. I’m taking steps to get more input from other writers, and hoping that will help.
Breathlessly waiting for an acceptance, from somewhere….