Writing
it's been a month since I started working as a bridge tender, and in that time I've really gotten the ball rolling with the writing and the studying and reading. I've surprised myself with some of the advancements that I've made and some of the poetry that I've written in that time.
I'm also working on a novel that combines 3 ideas that I have been working around with the last year and a half. Planning is starting to outweigh mindless enthusiasm and I'm really happy about what I've come up with so far on that.
But when I think about submitting and marketing my material I still get a cold chill in my spine. I feel completely overwhelmed completely unprepared. I feel like a fool like I wasted my time and maybe a terrible decision not going to school for engineering or law.
But then I write something like that poem I posted here earlier and I know it's good, and I feel a buoyancy and a catharsis at getting those emotions out. Then the idea of rejection slips doesn't feel like the mark of a failure. The idea that I will become bitter and that writing alone will no longer keep me interested isn't quite so looming.
This doesn't do much to abate the pressure. if I don't become a success through publication and I continue to put all of my efforts into that goal then my lifestyle will be rather meager. I don't want meager.
I'm also working on a novel that combines 3 ideas that I have been working around with the last year and a half. Planning is starting to outweigh mindless enthusiasm and I'm really happy about what I've come up with so far on that.
But when I think about submitting and marketing my material I still get a cold chill in my spine. I feel completely overwhelmed completely unprepared. I feel like a fool like I wasted my time and maybe a terrible decision not going to school for engineering or law.
But then I write something like that poem I posted here earlier and I know it's good, and I feel a buoyancy and a catharsis at getting those emotions out. Then the idea of rejection slips doesn't feel like the mark of a failure. The idea that I will become bitter and that writing alone will no longer keep me interested isn't quite so looming.
This doesn't do much to abate the pressure. if I don't become a success through publication and I continue to put all of my efforts into that goal then my lifestyle will be rather meager. I don't want meager.