It's 2008 and all of a sudden I'm filled with doubt. I want to go back and examine every word, every comma, every plot point of my book. On the other hand, I want to tear it up and go hide somewhere. I want to apologize for taking up so many people's time with my drivel.
I think this insecurity is partly fed by a character flaw on my part - a deep wound in my self-esteem possibly inflicted during early childhood. But this insecurity is heightened right now by being part of this fabulous marketing group called Class of 2k8. Just like in the school days of my past, I feel myself drawn to the edge of the class as an observer. I watch the other kids - or in this case, the other authors - who are brimming with the self-confidence that talent brings, acting as leaders, connecting with each other and with the big publishing world out there. Of course, this might partially be due to the fact that I'm the lone Canadian in this group.
I wish there was an ultra-sound test for books in the making. I want to be reassured that my baby will be healthy. I want to hear its heartbeat, count its toes, and know that it will be ready for the harsh world that book publishing is. But I can't know this. I can only know that I did my best and that soon it will be judged. Then I must move on. I must write because I love to write and not because I'm successful or not.
On another note ... I've finished reading my first book of the year and would like to share just one quote from it. It's Slaughterhouse-Five. Vonnegut writes: "And Lot's wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human." That's a theme in my writing so far - looking back. So what if it kills me. At least I've got Vonnegut's blessing. I feel better already.
Looking forward - even while I look back - to a great year! (Truly!) Next post I'm not going to blather on about myself. No! I'm going to talk about this fabulous of class of 2k8. So please come back.
Word of the day:
human: susceptible to or representative of the sympathies and frailties of man's nature
(from Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary)