I’ve got a thing against doing blog posts where I talk about non writing related, personal things. As though I’m really special and everybody should be so interested in what I happen to be thinking about.
Thankfully I happen to be thinking about something writing related. People who know me will be aware that I lost a huge manuscript, more than likely due to my own negligence. I didn’t back up. I got it checked out. It’s gone. But the plot remained in my head, I got it written down and I am in the process of rewriting. Again.
The whole ‘novel length’ manuscript process is hard for me. I doubt I will ever be able to bang out one best seller after another. But I will never stop writing.
Now…writers. We are of many different personality types, different genders, different perspectives. Some of us are loving parents. Some of us are not very family friendly. Some of us are academic overachievers with six pack abs, various trophies and charming social attitudes. And some of us are dream-boat or siren-like beauties AND best selling writers. I’m…not talking about myself by the way.
Some of us are incurable introverts who find public interaction very difficult without alcohol and undergo a constant battle to avoid unhealthy, self-induced mediocrity. I’m…kind of talking about myself there.
I am confessing the little twinge of jealousy I experience when the overachievers step out with their winning smiles, flat stomachs (in my imagination at least) and novel releases you just know will do well. And here is me…the technologically useless dippy ‘indie writer’ lady who lost a manuscript she was almost, kind of starting to feel a little bit proud of.
I’ve never been ambitious. I knew writing wasn’t something I sucked at from a very early age. It was natural. It felt good. But I have always lacked that zesty confidence and ‘go getter’ attitude that would push a ‘winner’ to use my…erm…thing that I don’t suck at.
So really, how dare I feel jealous of the winners in life, best seller types? Do I want to be them? If I really look deep inside myself…I’ve got to say…no. I want to be me. I want to be a writer. It’s probably the one shot I have at being kind of good at something career wise.
Okay fine. I admit I dig running, fitness, healthy eating and all that. I also really freaking love pizza and wine. I also love my children and want to raise them without hired assistance.
So, I shed my tears and learned my lesson over the loss of my manuscript. It hurt. But it taught me a lesson. Okay, yes it taught me that I need to back my stuff up. It also reminded me that this is no joke to me. I might not be the most talented (really what sort of nauseating muppet goes on about their talent?), I might not be the most prolific, I might not be the best looking, I might NEVER be a best seller, I might JUST manage enough working out to keep my health in reasonable order, but I…
I AM good at this. And I will not stop. There. I said it. What a nauseating muppet.
Really no offense meant to over achievers and best seller types by the way. It’s fine. I love overachievers and best sellers, I read their stuff all the time. No offense to muppets either….