I just finished reading Page after Page by Heather Sellers and she says “Many of the productive writers I know believe they are simultaneously shit and undiscovered geniuses.” It’s what keeps us coming back to the keyboard.
Self confidence gets me through the first draft. Self doubt gets me through the revisions. I know I have something important to say. I just don’t think anyone else wants to hear it. The constant back and forth is what keeps me writing. I know I can only become a better writer by writing. I just wish it wasn’t so hard…personal…scary…anxiety producing…time consuming…full of rejection. But if it wasn’t any of those things would it mean as much to me as it does now? If it was easy, would I lose the sense of accomplishment I feel when I fill a page with words?
After much hesitation and tinkering I finally sent my first short story out. St Martin’s press was running a contest for previously unpublished authors and I needed to start somewhere. I followed the submission rules and sent it off a few hours before the deadline.
The next night I dreamt the phone was ringing and when I answered it I heard “This is St Martin’s Press. Congratulations on being our…second place winner.”
Second place? It’s my dream and I still can’t win?
