I wish I had some charming sunrise or sunset photograph to post here. I’m always driving when the sun is rising and setting, though. 😉
I’ve been doing a lot of introspection lately about writing. I told myself this year would be different for me. I would try harder to focus on the writing and, most of all, to participate in the groups to which I pay annual dues. There are a lot of other things on my list, but I don’t have the time or space to post them here. 😉
There was a recent discussion in one of those groups that talked about the worst writing advice they ever got. But what it evolved into was a discussion about how people in their lives did their best to kill their dreams. I began to wonder why that was. Why do people (some who hardly know us and some who we’ve known since birth) feel it necessary to tell us we’re wasting our time if we want to write books for a living?
I think it’s funny how the people we love most tend to be the ones to tell us how “hard it is to get published” and how we’ll “never make money” writing books. And that not everyone can be Nora Roberts, JK Rowling or Stephen King. Well, duh, but don’t I get a fair shake at making an attempt?
I think so.
I couldn’t help but think how sad it was our family and/or spouses are these people who are supposed to love us and support us in everything we do would be such dreamkillers and naysayers. It’s like someone said – maybe thay had a dream once and didn’t go after it; they gave it up; and now they don’t want anyone else to succeed with theirs.
I could tell you about my own experience in a past life but if you’re a writer, you’ve probably already experienced it. I like to chalk it up to the fact that this person was afraid I might be more successful one in the long run and viewed it as a threat. Therefore, when I announced I would like to join a professional writing organization, I got laughed at.
It’s no wonder writers are reclusive. We try to talk about our work and people look at us as if we’ve grown a third head. Or they snicker and think we’re silly. (Of course I use the term “we” collectively here…). Being rejected by editors and agents is expected. Being rejected by our loved ones isn’t and it hurts. We find solace and companionship in those who are like us, they understand us and the need to create and learn and grow and be published.
Isn’t it funny how everyone thinks they can write a book, too? But not everyone will ever try it nor will they succeed at crossing the finish like (typing “the end”). It’s the only career I can think of where we hinge our hopes on one yes.
I’m fortunate now that I have someone who supports me 100 percent of the way. Even if he doesn’t totally understand how the business works, he does get that it’s something I want to do and he pushes me toward the ultimate goal. He’s genuinely interested in what I’m working on, shares the ups and downs of submitting.
And what I learned from the entire discussion? We’re writers and when someone tell us we can’t do something, we put our crest up, puff out our chests and say, “Oh yeah? Watch this!”