Yesterday, this article on an online collaboration sent me into a funk.
18 days? 18 days! Egad!
The green of professional jealousy is glowing behind my pupils. I've been at it for four years now. Four! Really, I should be happy for these two, and I wouldn't be surprised if I were to enjoy the book in question when it comes out. But it's reports like this that sometimes make me wonder what the heck I'm doing.
I'm sure that what the reporter didn't mention was all the drafts and revisions that must have happened to get to the final product. Surely.
Too bad that doesn't actually exist for those of us still wallowing in rejection-land.
Please pay me no mind. Story 2 is wallowing in an intractable phase and I'm just feeling self-pressure. The funny thing is I feel ecstatically happy for another friend of mine who I know has toiled really hard and was just offered a really good deal. So it's not like I'm incapable of sharing the love. And logically I know that a good work is a good work, no matter how long it took to create. But you tell me: 18 days!
I'm not worthy. :-)
[Postscript: I'm regretting this post already. But I suppose it's more important to acknowledge one's character flaws than to pretend to be all sweetness and light. ;-)]
[...] what you’ll sell. And stop begrudging other people their success. I’ve been there. I’ve whined. In the end, all it got me was further away from completing my own work. The more books other [...]