I’m in a funny mood today, and not ha ha.
I don’t think I want to keep doing this. The chase for publication I mean, not writing.
It’s just too much work, and it takes all the fun out of writing. I know my writing is still a long way off being ready for acceptance by M&B, and even if it was, it won’t necessarily get any easier. It’s still all waits and rejections and needing to meet deadlines and having to write what the editors want to meet contracts.
I feel like I have enough s**t in my life without adding pushing to get published as well.
All writing is for me at the moment is guilt.
I’m tired of getting home from work at 7.30, exhausted and brainfried, and feeling guilty that I want to relax, not jump into edits. I’m tired of spending my too short precious weekends feeling guilty about doing anything other than writing.
So I’m calling a time out. I don’t care if I don’t put anything in for the NWS, don’t mind not entering the Presents/Modern comp. I just want to try to get my life back, or some little bit of it anyway, rather than have nothing but work, or chasing an elusive and distant dream.
Maybe that makes me a wimp who just isn’t tough enough for the real world of writing. Maybe it makes me a dilettante who just wants to play at writing. Whatever. I don’t much care.
I’m hoping that in some perverse reverse-psychology way, I’ll do more writing this way. I need to get my joy in writing back, need it to be something I want to do again. Not just yet another pressure to perform I put on myself.
I get more than enough of that in my day job.
So today, I’m not going to sit at my laptop all afternoon. I’m going shopping. I want to wander round the shops. Look at shoes and clothes. Buy some books. Sit and indulge myself in the simple pleasure of losing myself in another writer’s created world and characters.
And not feel any guilt that I’m not spending that time on mine.