Maybe I just need to get away from the lit journals for a bit. Pulled out April Fool’s Day by Josip Novakovich, and I might take a stab at Narrative as Virtual Reality by Marie-Laure Ryan. These in addition to 100 Jolts (some notes on this in a post soon) and Didascalicon, which demands much focus and quiet time.
Oh yes, and I want to throw Still Life back in and have some fun.
It used to be that I was inspired by good writing, and oddly enough by bad (jeezus, even I could write better than that!). But lately, between the ho-hum and the what the fu..? reactions I’m having to the majority of the short stories I have been reading lately–aside from the dear God, I may as well use the laptop for Freecell! reaction to the occasional phenomenally written or brilliantly conceived story, and the near impossibility of getting published by someone other than oneself, I’m kind of finding it impossible to write a single word in a creative narrative structure.
I don’t want to give up, but I seem to be letting the bonfire die to campsite ashes, and I can’t seem to kick myself into gathering more wood. It is depressing to think that one of the things I really want to do, according to market reports, is near impossible; and that even if I went the self-publishing route, right now I just don’t think I’m capable of writing a story anywhere good enough to be worth the paper and ink.
Plodding along though, because I’m obsessive. Or worse, stubborn and perhaps unwilling to face the realities of my capabilities. Maybe these traits alone will either see me to a goal, by study and learning and perseverance, or bring me up against the wall to force me to decision.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Ups and downs for sure. But don’t let the publishing angle pull you down. Where is the love of writing but in the writing.
Does the chef cook only for himself? Does the artist paint to decorate his walls? Why is it then, that while others are told to share their talents, the writer is told to write for the love of writing alone?
It is not just the publishing problems, nor the great writing I read that is humbling, but all in combination with a realization that I simply do not “have it,” am not “getting it,” and it looks like I never will.
I read your blog and consider your writing superior to my own.
We need to exchange emails, because I have an idea of what may be giving you the negative viewpoint that you espouse as your own.