Feeling Introverted: One Writer's Journey

There are days like today when I wonder what I was thinking trying to get into a business that is more competitive than any other business around. I mean we as writers are plagued with rejection, hammered with critiques and smashed with other people's opinions on a daily basis. We don't stop though. I think it's because we can't. We have words crashing around our heads being said by characters we create and oddly enough they are only seen by others because we choose to allow it. I think in a lot of ways we are all a little nuts. We see the world different than most people.

I have been playing the waiting game for a couple months now. I have to say it's the hardest thing I've ever done. Writing, that was the easy part. Waiting to be judged by those who hold the golden ticket to the show, that's the hard part.

The ever reclusive golden ticket is an odd creature. It peeks its head out only when it feels like it. They don't multiply too often so there is a limited supply and they are shy. I would imagine catching a golden ticket is a lot like discovering a new planet or winning the lottery. It's a dream come true.

What happens after you land one of those little creatures? Does the work end there?

That's the illusion of the whole game. People see others making it and think it's an over night success kind of thing. The truth is, a lot of blood, sweat and tears are shed AFTER the ticket is given. There are more edits, galley proofing's, approval of covers and last but not least, you have to give shout outs to the world and hope they are listening. The last one, well I would imagine that is the hardest one in the line up.

The funny thing about all this; we choose to do this for a living, for the sheer joy of it, or even just because. The philosophy behind it eludes us. Do we seek approval from the world? Is that why we chase the golden ticket? I don't know. What I do know is there is nothing like creating something from nothing. We rip it out of the stars and make it real. We are the gods of our own creations. Perhaps we are just control freaks.

I do know at this moment my muse beckons me. She is floating above me with a look of disapproval because I'm not working on The Kiss or Heart Beat right now. I better go before she decides to give me the silent treatment. She's a snarly bitch at times.