deilaitha
Sage
I wasn't sure whether to put this under chit chat or writing questions, but since it's really more of a pity-party thread and doesn't so much pertain to the craft explicitly, I thought I'd put it here.
So.
Why bother?
This is the question I keep asking myself.
Why do I continue to pour so much effort into my writing? I know how astronomical the odds are against my success. Sure, I have the first draft done and a lot of the editing. But it has been so arduous. Why do all this hard work when my chances of being picked up by a publisher are slim to none? Yes, I could self publish, but there is a lot of disdain for self-published writers.
Then there's the whole idea that, hey, there are lots of other books out there, so if I don't finish and publish mine, who is even going to care besides me and my immediate family?
Once again, why bother? Is it like asking "Why climb a mountain?" where the answer is, "Because it's there?"
I'm seriously thinking of just giving up. There doesn't seem to be much point. At the same time, I can't give up--it's too much a part of me.
I'm twenty-seven. I've been writing, more or less, since I was fifteen. I have a college degree in English and I've dreamed of being a professional writer for more than a decade. After all of that, I have only a handful of poems published, a really terrible first draft of one novel, and about 1/3 of another.
That's it. In 12 years of writing.
So yeah. Thanks for listening to the pity party.
So.
Why bother?
This is the question I keep asking myself.
Why do I continue to pour so much effort into my writing? I know how astronomical the odds are against my success. Sure, I have the first draft done and a lot of the editing. But it has been so arduous. Why do all this hard work when my chances of being picked up by a publisher are slim to none? Yes, I could self publish, but there is a lot of disdain for self-published writers.
Then there's the whole idea that, hey, there are lots of other books out there, so if I don't finish and publish mine, who is even going to care besides me and my immediate family?
Once again, why bother? Is it like asking "Why climb a mountain?" where the answer is, "Because it's there?"
I'm seriously thinking of just giving up. There doesn't seem to be much point. At the same time, I can't give up--it's too much a part of me.
I'm twenty-seven. I've been writing, more or less, since I was fifteen. I have a college degree in English and I've dreamed of being a professional writer for more than a decade. After all of that, I have only a handful of poems published, a really terrible first draft of one novel, and about 1/3 of another.
That's it. In 12 years of writing.
So yeah. Thanks for listening to the pity party.