I’m a writer. My life is writing. As cliché as this sounds, I eat it, sleep it, drink it. I simply love it
Hopefully, I’m a good writer – I like to think I am, but I’m biased, after all.
Truly though, I’m a literary, conceptualist junky . . . an unadulterated word monger. I incessantly plot plots, and mingle with words - idioms, axioms, you name it. My imagination is rampant – some ideas great, some not so great. But the think-tank never, ever ceases to stop. It’s odd how my mind operates . . . love it though.
Lately, however, I feel as if, perhaps, my writing isn’t up to snuff with the mainstream – or rather, what people desire. I’m having a hell of time publishing anything – even the free stuff, for pity sake. My spectrum of writing is quite diverse, ranging from short stories to novels, composed in every conceivable genre of fiction - even warking on a memoir. I’m a literary renaissant, if you will.
Still, I’m left with my hands empty - painfully open - with no publications . . . and very little interest. I’ve always said, writing is an outlet for me. And to be recognized via any form of media is a bonus. I still believe this. But when I read some of the stuff out there - in print - and see it for the simplicity that it is, I wonder, should I be writing for an audience that enjoys reading regurgitation? I want to be unique – I was to be a creative author. But I fear that literary agents, or rather the publishing companies, only desire what is safe. I loathe safe – I’m an adventurer. Safe is boring. Why am I not being rewarded for this courageous acclimation?
I once read on a literary agent’s website, if you’re writing isn’t generating feedback of any kind maybe your work needs some tweaking. But what if it doesn't? Desiring nothing more than to reject the notion that I am a bitter writer, who is too arrogant and too proud to refuse constructive criticism is not it for me. I embrace any input! Currently, I hear only praise from those that read my labor. What then is it? How am I to branch out when no one will listen (or read)?
Writing is a bitch. It isn’t easy. I’m certain that many, many writers can relate to my plight. Please, please, express your frustrations here. Let’s call this a forum of outraged authors!