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Wanna be writer

Yes that’s me. The sheepish woman in the corner pulling her self confidence back up off the floor after the first rejection. The first of many of course, I realise that. I thought I was prepared for it but now I realise what an idiot I am. Why when I have so many things in my life to make me feel like a useless human being (job, children, husband) do I inflict this on myself too? The journey that is know for being hard, cruel and brutal. The journey of an aspiring author.

I am working on building up my thick skin, layer after layer of it is going on as I type. If only you could buy it and wrap yourself up in it until the rejection process was finally over. Now that I’ve sent out my submissions I feel naked and exposed. I feel unbelievably silly and small. Surely I should have had it read by more people? Got more feedback? Surely I should have culled more of the first chapters? Surely I should have edited, rewritten, given up, started again a few more times? 100,000 words of women’s fiction, the story that frankly I had to write is starting on its long journey. I just hope it was the best it could be, but I’m not so sure. Is anyone ever sure?

Things are reaching something of a zenith in my life right now. Things must change. I’m not sure opening myself up to the kind of brutal knocking of my minimal self confidence was actually the wisest thing to do in my current mindset. But it’s done now and I just have to get over myself.

Shit I’m depressing aren’t I? So as to spare you this morbid self-loathing and deep self-indulgence I’ve started a new blog http://www.iamawannabewriter.wordpress.com/ to record my writing journey. I figured I may as well make use of the process to give me material to write about. There’s a certain irony in that don’t you think?

Right where’s that bottle of vodka…


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