Oh you guys, you are so sweet. Except I feel terrible for misleading you - I realize now that it totally looks like I submitted something and was duly rejected except NO, I was (am) just feeling rejected without having submitted anything. Which, when you think about it, is even more pathetic.
I spent about an hour and a half today sitting on my parents' couch staring in horror at what I wrote yesterday. The writing group is going to kick in here pretty soon and I'm trying to clean up, rewrite, reorganize (read: save SOME face) and it just wasn't working. For one thing, I've written the beginning about a hundred times and it's never right. And not just little writing, we're talking total reworking of scenes - setting, characters, the whole shebang - and IT'S STILL NOT RIGHT. So I decided to leave it and move on to my current scene and OH GOD has there ever been a "novel" so contrived? So dimwitted? So fake? So mortifying to its author? NOT THERE HAS NOT.
I honestly feel like I need to chuck the entire thing in the fireplace and start over. On a completely different story. I mean, right now I feel like I might rather die than upload the first chapter for my writing group to inspect. DIIIIIIIIE.
Possibly I feel this way because I was following links around online and found this INCREDIBLY snotty article about how Jonathan Franzen is so not All That although really, according to the author, NO author has been all that since the 19th century, Phillip Roth, John Updike, don't make him vomit. It was enough to make an aspiring author of mostly frothy YAF throw her angst-ridden self out the nearest window. That and the fact that my dad would so not want to read the book I am writing which makes me sad because my biggest hope in the world is to impress my dad and I know - I KNOW - he wouldn't make it five pages into MY book.
But then I say to myself: Self? Your dad will just be impressed that you WROTE a book.
Which brings me to the comic strip, which I found in someone's desk calendar when I was in high school. I ripped it out and it's been pinned to various bulletin boards and walls and mirrors ever since. I think it's hilarious. It also reminds me that one day I want someone to be afraid that I might have licked the stamps. Because that means I'll have at least finished something and had the guts to submit it.
It hasn't happened yet, but that's the goal.
I will shake off today. I'll write a hundred-and-first beginning and maybe that one will stick. I will keep writing, even though my story is beginning to feel so large and disorganized. (AND LAME!) I have so many scenes and ideas that aren't yet written and I'm not sure where they go and the not knowing is paralyzing. But I will keep writing, because I've kept writing this far and it seems silly to stop now. And, like I told my dad this afternoon, I think maybe I just have to get this one out of my system so I can move on to the next. Which I'll undoubtedly get right on the very first try.
In the meantime, I so appreciate your comments. I think you're pretty too.