You know that feeling when you don't even know which tab to hit on your browser because there are so many sites you feel you should be checking for important information that you need to know...well, NOW?
And how when you go to one of those sites and read some of the things on them, it just makes you feel kind of sick in the stomach because...well, you start to wonder if you're even good enough?
And then you go on sites where you see other people's writing, and you love reading it because, well, you love reading of course. But then it makes you stop again and think...Oh my God, they're ten times better than me. I look like an ass, what the hell am I doing?
And here you are, trying to find time to write in the first place around work and grocery shopping and burnt meals. Around little things like 5 hours of sleep and showering, where you hope you have enough time to actually wash all your body parts, condition your hair, and go crazy and shave your legs. Then there are the kids that need a ride to voice lessons, soccer practice, the 8th grade dance, ninjutsu, and the sleepover that "Everyone is going to be at and I just haaaave to go!"
And each day you pray for Ed McMann to come ring your doorbell, and hand you that big 'ole check...if only so you can have space for a library filled to the tippy-top with books, and a fireplace, and huge windows overlooking a gorgeous perfectly manicured lawn, with a forest filled with prancing happy woodland creatures for a backdrop. And tucked in a little nook off of this child-free library is a writing room just for you. With some magic sound system that you just have to speak the word "Dramatic scene", or "Love scene", or "I have fucking writer's block!" and it knew just what to play to make the words fall effortlessly from your fingertips to the page.
But no. Instead, you sometimes feel stressed, and self-doubt creeps in, and you wonder if you can really do it. If you have what it takes. If you should just give up.
Until, fate steps in, under the guise of a band of brothers called "fellow writers". And thank God or Mother Earth of whatever it is you thank for good things, for each of you.
Screw Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Writers are where it's at.
I know what you mean. I recently made the mistake of participating in a writers chat where the discussion somehow became about the quality of writing, and how bad some authors are. Even though I keep telling myself that most of the "really good writers" only get read as school assignments, I can't stop myself from second guessing every single word I've put on the page. I like the comparison of writers and the Merry Men>
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