Spent most of today preparing for/participating in a baby shower for my cousin (whose son will be the second great-grandchild, following after my own almost 18-month-old son. The fact I had Zack at 29 and cuz is having his son at 18 is a bit disturbing, but what can ya do?) This was actually a good thing, because it kept my mind occupied and OFF of the full manuscript.
Then we got home. And doubt and second-guessing set in. She’ll HATE it. The opening rocks so much that the rest of it can’t POSSIBLY measure up. No way is she going to offer to rep me. She’ll HATE it. I’ll never get an agent. I’ll never get published. I suck. She’ll HATE it!
Yeah, sensing a theme? Whiney ranty baby me! Heh.
So I decided to indulge in a nice, long, hot bath and took Stephen King’s On Writing with me. I figured this would be a nice, inspirational re-read that would get me OUT of my self-indulgent funk, and also provide a refresher course since I haven’t read this book in a couple years. And now I’m going to curl up on the recliner and read some more. =)
P.S. This isn’t a plea for ego-boosting or anything, just a wannabe writer being honest. I think it’s important to talk about the downs along with the ups.