Rooting for myself gets tiring after awhile, you know what I mean? Thinking positive, buoying myself up, disciplining my thoughts (or trying). I read others’ blogs and am happy for their new publishing contracts, only to have that feeling become tinged with a little…envy? melancholy? self-pity? Something annoying, let’s put it that way.
I don’t know what I’m going to do if my agent comes back to me all tapped out of editors. She’s been shopping my manuscript around for awhile and has received many positive rejections (so oxymoronic, but there you go)…What will I do?
I know what I’ll do: I’ll grieve, hope that my agent will want to represent my next novel, and return to the tiring task of being my own best cheerleader once again.
It’s frustrating to have finally figured out what I’m supposed to be doing in this life of mine, yet unable to wholeheartedly DO IT. Sometimes it feels arbitrary, who lands contracts, who doesn’t. Sometimes I feel like there’s something more I should be doing, only I can’t quite figure out what, except to keep setting down sentences, one after another.
That said, I wrote six pages today, a good writing day, and a gang of us are going to see a friend’s play tonight. I’m sure I’ll drink a glass (or two?) of red wine afterwards.
Anyone got any bright ideas on what else I can do to help my cause (besides going into therapy)?