Hello everyone,
Well I didn't win the competition, but then I didn't expect to and yet, somewhere in the cobweb shrouded recess of my mind, hope lies there expectantly. Thanks to that competition I now have serious doubts about my novel; the synopsis was read by a professional and they didn't want it, so does that mean that no one else will want it either?
I am so close to the end and yet I fear finishing it. What if I've wasted all that time and effort for nothing. I have not looked at it in over a month; should I bother finishing it or just shred it? I am so tempted to give up my dreams of becoming a writer, I have so much normal, paid work at the moment that I'm having to turn it away, so what's the point in chasing a dream?
I have thrown a lot of old writing material and stories out; just didn't see the point in keeping them to gather yet more dust under my bed. I even held my novel in my hands; all five hand written books and was ready to tear them up and bin them and yet, I couldn't do it. My dream is so strong and no matter how many times I've tried to crush and kill it, it just won't die, It's like a disease or a pesky summer insect, always there gnawing away at the back of my mind. You won't know if you don't try. You won't know if you don't try. On and on, droning at the back of my mind.
I did think about the self publishing route, but it just doesn't feel real, my spiteful mind says; you're not good enough, you had to do it yourself; no one likes your stories enough to want to buy them and then I get the crashing, neon pink FAILURE sign
doing the rounds inside my head, bumping into stories that will never be given life.
Why do I have this compulsion to write? Was I born with it? Am I talented? Or afflicted? I wish I knew. Either way I know I will continue to write; I can't help it.
Until next time good luck to all would be writers.
