I’m writing a novel. There I said it. Now it’s out there. I’m writing a novel and now you all know that I am, and you can hound me about it for years until finally, finally it will be published. If it ever is.
I’m about 12,000 words in. It’s 12,000 words of absolute shit. And every day I think about these words and wonder whether it’s worth continuing.
I couldn’t even write 12,000 words for my university thesis, which had a minimum word limit of 12,000 words. I scraped in due to the 5% under or over ruling. But still, I have put quite a bit of effort into the beginning of my novel, and obviously, it would be a waste to give up now. Or would it?
What if it never gets finished, published, read? What if it really truly is, absolute crap. I mean, I’m not stupid. If I didn’t think that somehow this dream could end with a published paperback with my name on the cover, then I wouldn’t be bothering.
But even my mum, upon telling her that I was writing something big, said, “Oh… you know it’s very hard to get published….”
I know that this will be a hard task, and that I am a dreamer, but dammit if I don’t try. No pressure, no diamonds, right? If I don’t try, how will I know that I would have failed? Like in South Pacific – that song – “if you don’t have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?!”
A tarot card reader/psychic lady told me last year in a reading that she “saw novels coming out of me”. It gave me great hope. For about 50 minutes she told me about my husband/children/retirement (to be), as well as my personality, my loves and hates, my career.
Then, after not saying anything about my love of words for the entire time, like an afterthought or epiphany that had just struck her, she opened her eyes wide as if channelling a vision of some sort and said: “Oh! But we have to do something about this writing!”
I was gob-smacked.
But still, despite this hope, I often just laugh at myself. You loser, I say. To think that you could achieve this. What a waste of your time! You’re never going to get published! You are not one of those successful people. Idiot. It’s just not going to happen. So I ignore the massive folder on my desktop and contemplate right-clicking and scrolling down to Delete.
But, my boyfriend believes in me. He has been the only person around since my novel’s conception and it’s gradual growth. He has seen the love that I have for this project, but also the hatred and frustration it causes. This man (I assume!) that the above mentioned Tarot reader said would be a wonderful husband and a wonderful father. I believe her. Best of all, when I wake up and complain that I am wasting my time on something I love, but will not take me anywhere, he tells me to shut up, and keep writing.
I write this to put my dream down on paper (so to speak) and share with you, my few, but lovely readers, what it is I want to achieve so that your thoughts can add some positivity to the cosmos and hopefully will add to my own positivity and motivation. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to my confidence and self esteem, and spreading my hopes and dreams might send some loving inspiration my way.
I am hoping that, in the words of another dreamer, that the following is true: “when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it.”
(The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho, read it, love it, dream!)