Let me start by saying that this is not one of those “pity the poor writer” columns. But this is an acknowledgement that I am in a rough place right now.
It’s been an amazing two weeks, and a really tough two weeks.
Davis Pride, where our local author group had a booth, was very nearly rained out by a huge unseasonable storm. We pushed through it, and it was a successful event, but it was hard going filled with uncertainty.
Then we had a great reading at the Lavender Library, but aside from our own “writing family,” only two people came, and they left at intermission.
Our Pride Reading at a local bookstore went well – kind of low turn-out, but hey – and I was sidelined by a shingles vaccine that knocked me on my ass for 24 hours.
And then Sac Pride – which in one way was a great event, with lots of books sold, but which also entailed facing a non-stop wind and forgoing the use of our canopy and standing under the hot sun for seven hours while getting wind-blasted.
And I haven’t had any time to write in two weeks.
Sometimes this writing life is downright brutal – things are more difficult than they should be, and the results less than you hoped for.
Sometimes you have a hard time seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Sometimes as a writer, you feel like you are a voice crying out in a hurricane, and no one will ever hear you.
And sometimes you wonder if it’s all worth it.
This stuff gets hard, and sometimes you have to pause and take a breath and try to find a new way forward.
I don’t know what the answer is. But I’m breathing now.
To my fellow writers – it’s ok to acknowledge that you’re in a rough place. The one thing that brings me comfort (apart from an amazing husband) is knowing I am not alone.