They tell me to write what I want to write. That's all I've ever done. I've never tried to follow a trend or anything like that. But it's never worked out.
They tell me that if it doesn't work out with one book, write another. Again, that's all I've ever done. After fifteen books, I'm still wondering when it's going to work, when someone will actually want my stuff.
They tell me to just write. Third in a row, that's all I've ever done. I never think about whether something will be publishable or what-have-you when I'm still in the creating part of the process. And that's never made a difference anyway.
They tell me I'm getting better. Maybe I am. But it doesn't matter how good something I write is if nobody ever reads it. Writing that no one reads might as well not exist.
They tell me to try different approaches. I do, and it makes no difference - query or contest, I maintain a perfect streak of absolutely nothing. Hell, I haven't even received a rejection letter in months. Just silence.
They tell me not to compare myself to others. I do my best not to. But it's hard, if not nigh-impossible, when there are so many amazing success stories out there, and I'm... here. It feels like everyone I talk about writing stuff with has at least one book out, if not more. (Do not bring up self-publishing in response to this; I've said my piece on that many times and I'm not having that conversation again.)
They tell me things to try to make me feel better. I appreciate it, but I don't even hear the encouragement anymore. It's always the same stuff, and words lose their meaning when you say them over and over again.
They tell me my efforts aren't futile. I look at an unending streak of rejections and silence and wonder how we're defining "futile" differently.
They tell me to keep trying, that I'll make it someday.
I've seen no reason to believe this.
Then I will just say I'm sorry your time hasn't come yet. But without hope, it never will.
ReplyDeleteEhh. Even with hope, there's no guarantee. But thanks anyway.
DeleteSounds like a good case to not listen to anyone else. And to that end, I'm not going to say anything. I'll just link to http status 418: I'm a teapot. Does it have anything to do with your post? No.
ReplyDeleteBTW, I enjoy your stories. So there. :P
...I am not even sure how brewing coffee with a teapot would work, but that's largely because I remain proudly ignorant of coffee procedures. :P
DeleteAnd "thank you" is the only thing I can say without delving into self-pity. So thank you.
But geez, won't it feel great when your time DOES come? (If it makes you feel any better, I totally get this. This is how I feel but I suppress it under copious amounts of writing and Oreos.)
ReplyDeleteOh, and I read your stuff. I think you're one of the better writers out there.
"If" my time does come. I'm no longer optimistic enough to say "when".
DeleteAnd considering which book of mine you read, I'm genuinely surprised you feel that way. >_< Ye gods, that one turned out a mess.
Earplugs are a great investment ;) I totally understand and keep telling myself that (according to statistics) I have over 40 years to still make it happen.
ReplyDeleteYeah, but the other side of that is that I could spend another 40 years, or whatever I have, without anything happening. And that just... yeah. >_<
DeleteYou sound very unhappy, and I worry that writing doesn't make you happy. More fan air, we need the thinhs that make us happy. For me, writing aline is never enough. I always have to have other outlets as well. Right now it's art, but I don't know if that will help you. Still, it's worth a shot. Try making something, anything. I totally recomend crochet. For about ten bucks you can get some yarn and a hook, patterns are free on the internet, and the school of you tube is vast. Make yourself a hat. It'll be cold soon, and a hat would be nice. And, added bonus, if you hate the thing you make, you can unravel it.
ReplyDeleteI don't know if "happy" has ever been the right word for it. Writing is fulfilling like nothing else in my life, but... I don't know. I wouldn't say this comic matches what I feel, but it gets a lot right: http://theoatmeal.com/comics/unhappy
DeleteAs for making stuff with my hands, every thing I try with that turns out horrible. >_<