I can't help comparing this journey into authorship like a rollercoaster. The highs and lows are incredible. I don't think my emotions have ever been so wildly extreme before.
The euphoria when I'm acknowledged, accepted...sold. It's a high I don't think I've ever felt before in my life. An outcast since childhood, it's a heady feeling. A thrill that creates butterflies in my stomach and makes me giddy. Never have I been noticed like that. A painfully shy wallflower that most would have to dig deep to remember I existed back in the day, it's almost beyond what I can imagine, this recognition.
Then, self-doubt slams into me. I see the success of others, and have to struggle to not be envious of them. And I'm not, really. Do I want to be where they are? Sure. But I have to put in my own hard work, just as they have to get where they are. I do not behoove them their achievements. They deserve them. They worked for them. But I can't help the down that makes my stomach flip when I go to see only 1 or 2 books sold for an entire month. My internal muse witnesses the lack of interest, and crawls into a corner of depression. How am I to write, when my inspiration has abandoned me? I don't. And that's a problem. Do I think I have talent? I'm not sure. But I love to write. It's the only thing I really have a passion for. But my muse is angry, mutters that I'm just a loser, wantabe writer that will never amount to anything close to what I encounter in the published world. And I fight to deny that.
So, without the motivation to create further, I fall back to hanging on FB, watching others announce releases, show new covers, gush over sales. Watch others interact, banter and show their considerable knowledge in the authorship world, and their adoration of each other. I'm stunned to see such camaraderie. And, yes, battle a twinge of jealousy. How could I not? They have something I've never had. True friendships with people who have so much in common with them. And the muses that they create for each other? Oh, to have a friend to call my very own muse. That would be a dream come true. And I don't dream anymore. Have goals? Certainly. But I gave up on my dreams a long time ago.
Suddenly, they are there, bantering with me, holding me up with praise and appreciation. And my emotions soar once more. They know me! They acknowledge me! They SEE me!!! The little shy wallflower with a burgeoning talent and fangirl attitude. So, the tightness of my stomach turns to butterflies once more. They know who CR Guiliano is! Some have even read her books. Can you imagine that? Authors that have considerable more talent, recognition and knowledge have read one of my creations.....and liked it!! And I cry. Just as I cry when I am at the bottom of the emotional whirlpool.
I have to say, I never was one to be fond of rollercoasters. But this ride, I hope in the end, will be well worth the price of admission. Maybe....a real dream....
The euphoria when I'm acknowledged, accepted...sold. It's a high I don't think I've ever felt before in my life. An outcast since childhood, it's a heady feeling. A thrill that creates butterflies in my stomach and makes me giddy. Never have I been noticed like that. A painfully shy wallflower that most would have to dig deep to remember I existed back in the day, it's almost beyond what I can imagine, this recognition.
Then, self-doubt slams into me. I see the success of others, and have to struggle to not be envious of them. And I'm not, really. Do I want to be where they are? Sure. But I have to put in my own hard work, just as they have to get where they are. I do not behoove them their achievements. They deserve them. They worked for them. But I can't help the down that makes my stomach flip when I go to see only 1 or 2 books sold for an entire month. My internal muse witnesses the lack of interest, and crawls into a corner of depression. How am I to write, when my inspiration has abandoned me? I don't. And that's a problem. Do I think I have talent? I'm not sure. But I love to write. It's the only thing I really have a passion for. But my muse is angry, mutters that I'm just a loser, wantabe writer that will never amount to anything close to what I encounter in the published world. And I fight to deny that.
So, without the motivation to create further, I fall back to hanging on FB, watching others announce releases, show new covers, gush over sales. Watch others interact, banter and show their considerable knowledge in the authorship world, and their adoration of each other. I'm stunned to see such camaraderie. And, yes, battle a twinge of jealousy. How could I not? They have something I've never had. True friendships with people who have so much in common with them. And the muses that they create for each other? Oh, to have a friend to call my very own muse. That would be a dream come true. And I don't dream anymore. Have goals? Certainly. But I gave up on my dreams a long time ago.
Suddenly, they are there, bantering with me, holding me up with praise and appreciation. And my emotions soar once more. They know me! They acknowledge me! They SEE me!!! The little shy wallflower with a burgeoning talent and fangirl attitude. So, the tightness of my stomach turns to butterflies once more. They know who CR Guiliano is! Some have even read her books. Can you imagine that? Authors that have considerable more talent, recognition and knowledge have read one of my creations.....and liked it!! And I cry. Just as I cry when I am at the bottom of the emotional whirlpool.
I have to say, I never was one to be fond of rollercoasters. But this ride, I hope in the end, will be well worth the price of admission. Maybe....a real dream....
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