What would you do if you didn't write?
I was chatting with a friend yesterday about how it feels when yet another rejection finds it's way to your door. We agreed that the problem was not so much about the rejection, (yes, it's disappointing,) but has more to do with finding the energy to go through the whole process of submission again from researching possible recipients to organizing yourself with enough postage to cover each way as you send your baby off again with a kiss and a prayer. It takes time, paper and ink to print a hard copy of anything let alone a couple of hundred pages, unless of course you're able to send by email but even that must be precise and correct according to the particular submission guidelines of the agent/publisher in question.
There are times when we can be forgiven for thinking to hell with it, what's the point when there are so many other people out there all trying for the same thing and chances are they are definitely more talented and know far more, have read much more...whatever.
I don't feel this way although I've had my moments and even come pretty close to shutting the blog down and walking away for good BUT.
It wouldn't be long before the itch would strike again and my fingers would be feeling around for a pen, pencil, scrap of paper, anything to jot down a conversation overheard on the bus, or note a particular attitude from a customer I couldn't help but tune into and wonder about in terms of character.
I've read and heard a lot about submissions where entries were of such a high standard and how difficult it was to make a decision, how people need to raise their game if they're to have any hope of succeeding and can't help but think it's no different wherever you go regardless of the type of job you're applying for whether it be mainstream or otherwise. So I say this...
Raise the bar, I'll jump over it.
Lower it and I'll limbo down as far as I can go.
Fire up the coals, I'll walk over them because there will come a time when it matters not what someone else thinks and I will still write. There will be a wall somewhere with my signature on it and you might not know my name but it will be enough to have entertained a small crowd for a short while.
The alternative is unthinkable.