And now, for the darkside. (duh duh duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)
I have terrible confidence issues, just like all writers. A writer friend, Shannon West, mentioned on social media today that 13K into her latest WIP she decided it sucked. That happens to all of us. So does rejection (my latest lesbian story, for example, was turned down after being in the running for over a month past the deadline). Then? My beta for said lesbian story's self pubbing adventure told me it would be nice to see some conflict among the fluff...
Julia picks her crushed-bug self up off the floor with a spatula.
On the heels of a review of the first Minerva Howe book on Amazon that said I was more boring than paint drying, and an editor telling me my erotic m/m story was, well, sweet but not hot, I may be developing a complex.
Now, does that keep me from doing my word count? Nope. It does, however, remind me that art is subjective, and that all artists, including authors, deal with putting their work out there in the world and occasionally getting beaten down for it. It's totally easy when things are going well to tell authors who are in a slump to pull their socks up and move on. It's another thing entirely when you're the stressed out, smooshed roadkill on the side of the publishing highway.
So, today I pull up ye old socks and take a good look at my lesbian story, do re-writes on a novel where the plot was so thin it was see-through, and work on the next Minerva Howe book despite the one crappy review. I may have the best job in the world, but it still requires a lot of practice and, you know, work. Even when I would rather be a speshul snowflake and go eat ice cream all day.