Go out and drink some green beer!

I think every writer has one of “those” days. Yesterday was it for me. Doubt Demons stormed onto the scene, brandishing their shiny broadswords, sharp pointy teeth, and growling their war cries. Determined to set me back another notch. Or two. (Don’t ALL Doubt Demons look like pointy-teeth, sword-weilding fiends? Mine do.)

Not that I need any added help in the doubt department. I’m pretty well versed on my own, thankyouverymuch. But yesterday was a particular doubtful day. I love to hear when my friends get deals – I really do. But sometimes it makes you sit back and think, “Huh. Does my stuff suck?”

And the answer always is, “Yes, of course, you ninny. What makes you think you can write worth a damn?”

I got to thinking about my writing, my career course, and everything in between. It depressed me. Oh, SURE, you say. You have five books published. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I realize most people never even get an offer. I realize some are stuck in the slush pile. And some get this close only to get that no (been there). I’ve received 12 rejections on the same book from 12 different agents. Still waiting on some. I had intended to query more but then I thought, what’s the point? They’re just going to reject it, too. Maybe this book is never meant to see the light of day. Maybe it should be retired to the proverbial drawer. Maybe it should be shot.

The Doubt Demons drooled.

You’re not good enough.

All your characters sound the same in every book.

You’re so not original.

You will never be published again.

Give it up, Miles, while you’re still ahead of the game.

Oh, the pressure. And so I started thinking about the writing again. Where I wanted to go, how I wanted to get there. What is my plan? My direction? What is going to be the outcome? Maybe I’m just not ready for an agent, yet. Maybe I need to keep trying with the publishers and forget the agent. That’s what I came up with so far.

I think I’ve decided it might be too soon on the agent-hunt. I’m not ready. I’m not polished enough, not good enough, not ground-breaking enough. I need to sit down, figure out my career goals, how I want to achieve them, and how fast. Which is all fine and good but when you have demands on your time by things beyond your control, it gets mighty frustrating. Beyond frustrating.

So I’m writing this because I have a case of the “blues” (and Doubt Demons breathing down my neck). I don’t expect anyone to sympathize with me or give me any advice. I’m just venting. I’m mad at myself. And disappointed I’m not farther along than I wanted to be. And I have doubts. Lots of them. I will get through them, I know. But for now, I’m just going to wallow.