Who knew, right? I know! I'm as shocked as you are.
I was having a little comment-convo with my favorite stranger-turned-online-friend, FEAKY SNUCKER, and I realized something ...
Does that ever happen to you?
Haha, ok, you want to know what I realized, don't you? Fine. I'll elaborate.
I think VERY highly of myself. VERY.
I've always been this way, though. (If I'm being honest, which I should be.)
I've always thought I was way more witty than I actually am. Way skinnier than I am. Way prettier than I actually am. Younger-looking. Smarter. Funnier. More popular. ETC. The list goes on.
Ugh, it pains me to say this, but why not bare my soul to you some more? As if my naked query post wasn't brutal enough?
I am not nearly as funny as I think I am. This is obvious when my jokes leave people scratching their heads. Whoops.
I am not as pretty, skinny, or young as I think I am. This is apparent in pictures. *Oy! Darn those blasted picture-taking machines!*
I am not witty. Well, maybe I am. Am I? I dunno. But surely not as much as I think I am. This is apparent when people find me rude instead of witty. Or pompous. Or offensive. "But I thought I was soooooo witty!"
Now, now, PLEASE don't think I'm having a pity party, because I'm not. I'm actually just learning something about myself through my writing journey and I thought I'd share it with all of you (and by all, I mean, all five). Maybe one of you feels the same way. Maybe you'll just think I'm even less witty. Who knows?
Recently, and much to my dismay, I've realized that my INFLATED SENSE OF SELF may have leaked over into my journey as an aspiring author. (Well, heck, I hate the word 'aspiring' so, aspiring PUBLISHED author? Does that work? Because though I currently write, and therefore I also 'author,' aspiring doesn't work in that sense. I DO however, aspire to be published. Yeah, that works. Doesn't it? DOESN'T IT?)
Damn, I'm off topic. SQUIRREL!
So, in my 'inflated sense of self' journey as a writer, I have had to realize and accept how deluded my ideas were going into this.
When I started, I was so proud of finishing my first manuscript. I polished and revised it. I accepted critiques from smarter and wittier friends. I felt the world was at my fingertips.
I had NO idea walking into this that agents would reject me. I'm serious, I had NO idea. I'm not exaggerating. I've ALWAYS lived in an imaginary world where bad things just don't happen. For real. (Its almost crippling to me when bad things DO happen.)
I did my research. (A LOT of research on both agencies and individual agents)
I compiled my Excel spreadsheet. (Its awesome - all colorful and pretty)
I made a list of the agents who I thought would "really love" my book.
I got knocked off my high horse.
Literally. i was pushed off my horse by a man in a jousting outfit. His jousting sword (stick?) went right through my innocent and naive little heart.
And then it happened again.
And then I killed myself.
WHAT!?!? ARE YOU WRITING THIS FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE?
No, sorry, that last part was me being funny. See what I mean?
But in all seriousness, I keep going. Some days I have this intense feeling that ITS GOING TO HAPPEN TODAY. (It obviously hasn't or we wouldn't be talking about this.) And some days I have this intense desire to give up. To throw in the towel (read: stop writing).
But I don't do it. I keep writing.
So what if only my mom and my close friends think I'm amazing? I can live with that.
*Well, truly I do want more, but that knowledge will get me through the query process that is much like a jousting match - in which I forgot my jousting tool/stick/sword.
So, to myself and to YOU, I say:
GET BACK ON THAT DAMN HORSE!!!!!!!!!!!!