Ah, here we go again–a post started days ago in the wake of multiple rejections, and then abandoned due to schedule, lack of time, and outright exhaustion. Again, I didn’t have the heart to delete the sentences, so full of immediate poignancy were they:
It happened while I was in the shower this morning–this huge seed of doubt that I hadn’t seen in a long time. What the hell am I doing? Why am I writing? What if I never get a novel published?
Days later, now I know better. I have the self-soothing answers down. And I know I have my answers as to why I write, and why I will keep on writing. But it’s humbling to have these thoughts and feelings every once in awhile. I mean, really, what do I have to say? Who’s reading? What impact will my words have on the world?
I think it “keeps me real.”