I have a dream. It’s elusive and I am on the verge of giving up.
To be a writer, the easiest part is to write and the hardest is to get it published by a publisher. Of course you can always self published but somehow that seems vain and you never really get the endorsement that your writing is as good as you think.
Getting rejection letter is hard. But I am always reminded by my kind peers that every famous writers get rejection letter. It’s part and parcel of being a writer. Much like getting a door slammed at your face when you are hawking cheap stuff door to door. You just continue knocking on the next door.
I have two other manuscripts in my drawer which I have yet to submit. I am reminded that if you don’t try, the answer will always be no. So I sent the first chapter to my writing group and they were very encouraging. I stopped attending when I started working full time but my friend Albert agreed to my request to continue editing for me. He told me that he had been accused of slicing hair but I am grateful for he often returned the chapters I emailed him much faster than I could do my editing.
As I sit in front of my PC, a sense of guilt grows as I face my manuscript for the umpteen times with daunting groans, because I know there are the few, my mentor Josephine Chia included, who are supporting this lazy writer in their own ways, yet here I am reluctant to start work.
Since I received news last week that one of my short story is going to be published in another anthology by NLB, and perhaps a poetry as well might be chosen in a poetry anthology by my poetry teacher. Suddenly, the dying spark is rekindled and I am on the flow again.
As Sylvia Plath said in the above, sent to me by my writing pal – I can’t let self doubt kill my creativity.
Let the journey begins again.