I remember coming to this group, and lurking, feeling shy. To my surprise many authors suffered the same as I with low confidence. Its been a while since the time of lurking. But the pendulum has swung from feeling strong and accomplished to me floundering in a crisis in faith.
Stupid me thought I was passed this.
Moods swinging between success will be mine (one day) and why am I submitting (no one with any sense wants to read my work). It’s taking pure stubbornness, which I have a lot of, and force of will, which seems to be slipping away, to continue.
Recently, I’ve two of three stories rejected—as expected. Right. One was such a long shot that didn’t have a chance. The other was short I thought was pretty good; and rejected or not, I’m planning to add more to it and resubmit elsewhere. The third, I work really hard on and it was a big fat flop. I’m still stinging from that one.
So I have no choice but to dust off and carry on. But what I’m doing and what I’m feeling are in two different spectrums. Sure, hanging with other writers guides me to the optimistic next step. Spit shine the work again and resubmit elsewhere. This I will do. But under it all I’m wondering if I have any skills. Wondering if I’m wasting every editor’s time submitting at all.
I haven’t been able to shake it. It sits in the back of my mind like a snarky kid in a classroom. And he doesn’t know when to shut up.
The only good news on this front is that I’m still trying. I know rejections are part of the business. I’m usually a woman with a good attitude. I’m full of hope, knowing a rainbow is never far away.
Thanks for letting me vent while I try to shake this off. I don’t know what I would do without all of you.