Highs, lows, blah di blah

I felt fairly chipper yesterday. A couple of things happened that made me feel a bit happy. Writing related things that made me feel part of something, as if I’m not being delusional about wanting to be a writer. That’s one of my big fears, deluding myself. I try to be honest with myself, you know, pat on the back when I think I’ve done well, slap round the chops when I’m slacking off. When I was young everyone I knew was in a band. My best friend is an amazing singer, my husband is a mega talented drummer, my other buddies included the worlds greatest bass player, a lot of guitarists, some keyboardists, and a fair smattering of vocalists too. And I was always the audience. I never wanted to be up there on stage with them, always knew that writing was my thing. Lots of them were really talented. Others were tragic. Really, truly shit, but they thought they were awesome, strutting about bloated with self importance. I would look at them, and tell myself that I was never ever to start to think I was something I am not.
I still check myself now. Am I any good? I dunno. Sometimes I think yes, other times I’m very fragile and think I’m just another one of those foolish wannabes.
Anyway, last night, I was fairly whoo hoo. Then today I got a reject. I hate the whole subbing, hoping, judging process. When a piece is out it can be a wonderful time. It feels buzzy because I have been proactive enough to get off my fat butt and sub. There is hope in the air. Dreams. And an acceptance is a beautiful validating thing. It says, yes, you do have something, yes this is good. Then come the rejections. Sometimes they are nothing more than a moments disappointment. Sometimes they sting a little. The one I got today shook me though. The writing I sent is good. It has been judged highly in the past. It is my best. People have said very positive things about it. It didn’t even make a long shortlist. There weren’t that many entries, and it didn’t make the grade. I feel stupid, embarrassed, and to be truthful, I guess a tiny voice inside is asking if I am like one of those kids with my guitar, making a public fool of myself.

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