I just got a very humbling email from my critique partner. God bless her, she was quite honest about the amount of work that I need to do. I'm not being sarcastic here, I truly appreciate her bluntness. It was what I needed to hear. Definitely not what I wanted to hear, but what I needed nonetheless. And I can't imagine that's an easy crit to write, so props to her for doing it.
I'm not going to lie, I feel pretty shattered. I'm sitting here right now thinking that writing just may not be my thing. Kind of like how I enjoy baking, but my cakes aren't that pretty to look at. Or how I can coordinate an outfit, but I'd never be hired as a wardrobe coordinator. And that's cool. Sometimes you like doing things and you're okay at them, but you're not that great and you need to accept that. I mean, it mostly breaks my heart to write that, but truth is truth. Right?
Funny thing is, the novel I sent her is about a girl who, when presented with a challenge, when things don't go as hoped or planned, assumes it wasn't meant to be and moves on. She doesn't see that she's cheating herself. She's missing the opportunity to achieve something through adversity and hard work. And we all know, those successes are the most meaningful.
So I'm probably going to drink myself silly tonight. And I'm probably going to wake up tomorrow wanting to die. And then I'm probably going to eat something greasy, go for a run, then figure out how I need to tackle my plot problems. Maybe I'm not meant to be a writer. Maybe. Maybe I'll never have an agent,be published, see my words printed on anything other than my own printer paper. Okay. But that will be the case after I've done my best. Not just gave it a go, but really busted my bottom to write some kick-ass novels. Because I'd hate to think that I missed out on my chance to better myself because I quit too soon.