The bad thing about a publishing fiasco like mine is that it can undermine a writer's confidence until there's nothing left but a big sucking sound. I know the decisions made were because of numbers and the "bad" numbers were due to unrealistic expectations...but still, when I sat down to write this morning, I found myself second guessing every word I wrote. Is it good? Is it good enough? Is it emotional enough? Too emotional? Exciting? Too talky? Not talky enough? The questions keep coming, bombarding me until I just want to go GAAACK! and bang my head on the desk.
And here I am working up workshops for RWA National conference again next year. Two of them, this time. Like I think I know what I'm doing.
Maybe I'll just bang my head on the desk, anyway. I'm not quitting mind. I'm just not sure if what I'm plugging away at will be any good. (Yeah, I know. Typical writer...)
Did get 6 more pages done today. I need to find out how to do those little thermometer-esque things, something that will fill up with every page written...