Maybe you feel like you are able to convey more through writing, giving yourself the excuse, that what you're feeling is being protrayed through someone else, so you don't have to "face" it yourself.
--As said to me by a fellow author
I've been found out. Somewhat. Why each rejection just chips away at me. It's bad enough that, apparently, I'm not writing what anyone wants to read (based on various articles and message boards and loops and even at the conference, etc); but it's that coupled with whatever concerns me/speaks to me is singular only to me and no one else. I guess because it's always been like that for me on a personal scale; to see it on a more public scale really chafes. I talk and few listen; I write and few read. I feel like the mythological Cassandra sometimes, I swear lol. There's no way I can write for the market, even if I do read and enjoy much of what the market provides. On the other hand, my writing teachers in college would say the most specific is the most universal. It seems like it isn't.
It's funny; one author at the conference told me to calm down when I was discussing some of my fears. I know I should. I should calm down and gather patience and all the things successful writers say because they have the benefit of hindsight and the rewards of what they'd sown for years. But this is the first time I've done something for me, and I'm terrified of falling flat on my face.
People are proud of me; I know this. I think why I was so glad to be at RSJ is because I was surrounded by people who understood what I was going through. I rarely have that. When I first started this writing thing, all I was told was how hard it would be; how unlikely success would be; how impractical it would be. I'm doing it anyway, but I'm scared to death I won't prove those sentiments wrong. And because these things were told by the people who know and love me the most, I took it close to my heart. I've gotten good reception, but . . . I don't know what I need to do or write so that people won't think this is just a hobby to me. I don't know what else I can do if I don't write, and that's scary. And I don't really have anyone with whom to talk to about my fears. I have folks I talk to online, but they have their own lives. It's just I.
And I know this is delayed reaction to Mother's Day too. My dad called on Sunday and asked how I was. I told him I was fine. I knew I wasn't, but I didn't want to talk about it. My mother was heavy on my mind during RSJ too. She was a reader; she would've loved the conference. She was just about everything I wish I were. If I'd told her I was going to be a writer, I don't think she would've said all the reasons why it wasn't a good idea first; or be borderline condescending about it. My sister says I idealize her, which is funny, because I'm older than she is. How would I know how the woman would be or do when I only knew her for nine years?
This is one of my more personal posts, but I'm going to put it up anyway. This journey isn't always smooth, and I think a post like this will help me stay righteous should I be blessed enough to have success.