Saturday, April 27, 2013


It seems that I get an uptick in readers whenever I post one of my laments about the writer's woes, of getting no damn respect, about frustration and pain and the ever-present fear of losing the skill, of the damn draft never, ever coming together. I get an  uptick when I say I should just abandon the WIP and start something else (as if there weren't already a stables-full of "something else's" already packing the stalls.) I get an uptick when I mention the frightening possibility of having a brilliant idea dissipate into faint mist the instant you step out of the car, get out of bed, or try to write it down as a complete paragraph.  I get an uptick when I complain about my frustrations, acknowledging that the universal condition of dissatisfaction and displeasure at the way things are going.

Is it schadenfreude; readers deriving pleasure at someone else's misfortune, that causes this reaction or is it an acknowledgement that the reader is not alone with their misery?  Perhaps people need to see that fate has not shat woe on them alone but that others are out there without the blessed  umbrellas.  I know I felt that way for years, watching others' successes without realizing that I was seeing ONLY their successes and not the string of failures/rejections trailing behind them.  It's not something you talk about, these growing trunksful of works that are good, but not good-enough. Instead the talk at the bar revolves around recent sales, new markets, and the bright future that lies ahead for all of us.  Later, in your room, you stare at the draft WIP and wonder why something that started off with such promise turned into a tortuous mess beyond hope of resolution.

Just like this post.

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