Monday Meandering: Where's the Bucket?
Now for today's Monday Meandering.
As my novella approaches publication, my fears multiply. Since I wrote it, I've been confident about this story. I knew it was good, I knew it would sell.
Until it sold.
My editor is a wonderful person. She's intelligent, she's funny, and she's damn good at her job.
At least I thought so until she acquired my story.
Because who in the world could ever think this piece of crap even resembled a good story? If I had any sense at all, I'd e-mail and tell her to pull it out of the line-up because it's not ready. It's bad writing, it's trite, the laughs fall flat and everyone is going to hate my characters.
But I'm a writer and writers don't have good sense. If we did, we wouldn't be in this soul-sucking business to begin with.
Here's the really funny thing. I wrote this little essay a couple of days ago--before I read and panned the book I blogged about yesterday.
You know what? I feel MUCH better about my story now. I really do.
And Angie is a ruddy genius to have picked it up for Samhain.
Bipolar, much?
13 Comments:
This is what my editor and teacher at Ryerson University told me.
A famous composer of the Twenties heard this really crappy piece on shortwave radid while on a boat trip. To his horror, he realized the song was his.
It went on to be a great song.
We all feel this way about our own work?
We seem to have no sense of proportion at times.
Hugs.
Some days, I feel like assuring everyone that my novel is not worth reading and they shouldn't pick it up. Since I don't think this is quite the way I'm supposed to promote my book, I haven't written such a post! At least not yet. My book isn't out for another month. Anyway, I know how you feel.
And Angie is a ruddy genius to have picked it up for Samhain.
Yes!
By 
, at
11:03 AM
We are our own worst critics, Sela! I went through damn near the same process, twice this year; once with Sacrilegious (available now! see the link on my blog) and with Nuermar's Last Witch. So, if you're bi-polar, you are not alone!
By 
Savannah Jordan, at
12:15 PM
There's a definite sort of camraderie in mental illness, isn't there? Thanks, everyone, for your support. It's nice to know I'm not alone.
By Sela Carsen, at
3:44 PM
Mental illness?
What do you mean, jellybean?
Just because I'm out here picking stars in broad daylight and warning people to "stay away from my eyes!"
I know how you feel! Things to Do is out this month too at Samhain so I can join you in the bipolar dance.lol
By Nell Dixon, at
5:48 PM
We'll all be mad, mad, mad together! Wheeeeee!
Note to self: Maybe a touch less coffee in the mornings. Maybe.
By Sela Carsen, at
8:19 AM
Just a smidge, Sela... ;-)
Breathe, dearest. We're all in this together, and you're not mad, and you are good.
By Anna Louise Lucia, at
10:36 AM
Well how come I keep failing
Roscharch inkblot tests everytime I see anna lucia's logo?
Most people would see a beautiful woman.
I see...
Sela, I am about to send my novel off to an editor who requested a full. Part of me can't wait to send it because I want to get it over with. The other part is scared shitless, wondering if its going to get passed around the publishers office as an example of what not to do. I can hear their laughter now.
Perhaps I should get some happy pills just in case she buys it.
By Jaye Wells, at
7:38 PM
Happy pills and a bucket. Good luck, Jaye!!
Ivan, I see a beautiful woman standing in the doorway of an ancient castle. But then, I'm sometimes of an excruciatingly literal bent.
Thanks Anna. I needed that.
By Sela Carsen, at
8:00 PM
I guess I'm showing my age, and too much into Freud, but I see an old political campaign of George Dedakus chasing George Bush Sr.
I am probably very bent and I know I didn't get it from your blog, which is excellent.
Here is what one editor said about me when he thought I wasn't there:
"See that guy Ivan?
Lives on a nice exurban street in a lovely Victorian home. Wife. Two children. You'd think a really successful quiet guy lived there.
"Guy is crazy as a bedbug."