It Could Always Be Worse...I Could Be in Arizona...

I am feeling sorry for myself and self-pity is soooo unattractive.

My latest book got a big, fat, thumbs down. In the non-writing world this is like somebody walking up to you in the mall and saying "You're fat and your Mama dresses you funny!" No- worse. It's like they said that about your kid. When you write a book, it's like one of your children. Having ten months worth of work rejected hurts.

So, I come home from a bad day in which my "stand-in" computer ate the six pages I wrote this morning, open my email and what happens? I get- rejected.

I immediately sought first aid for my bruised and bleeding ego- I ate the rest of Beloved's stale birthday cake.

Then I thought about how I'd never amount to anything-

Decided my life was almost over because now I'm old and a loser-

Served ground beef browned with onion, mixed with condensed chicken gumbo soup, ketchup, mustard and brown sugar on hamburger rolls and added highly-seasoned but still freezer-burned French fries to the plate and called the whole thing dinner.

Then I tore apart my home office and re-organized it, kind of, because I clean when I'm upset and re-organize when I figure I have nothing left to live for.

by the time I'd done that for 3 hours- I was over it.

Don't get me wrong- life still sucks, all is lost and I'm still a loser but-

Hey, come on-

Tomorrow's another day.

It could always be worse...I could be in Arizona...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

We've all been there. You very accurately captured the disappointment (read,devastation) of having one of your word children rejected. The fact that you can do this while the wound is still fresh proves what a good writer you really are.