Why do I do this? Why the seemingly insane quest for success in my writing? I really don’t know. There are some times I think it’s because I know I’m supposed to be somewhere that I’m not. Many years ago, I won a screenwriting contest. That’s right, I actually won. The problem was I wasn’t notified for about three months after the fact. In fact, I found out by googling the title of my winning script (which in all honesty, wasn’t my best work). I talked to them and I got the screenwriting software that was one part of the prize, but I didn’t get the meeting with the Hollywood insiders, which had been the other.
I hadn’t thought about that incident for a long time until one day I was wondering why I feel so desperate to publish something or produce something. To do something that becomes recognized by the world at large. I began to think about what might have happened if I had gotten that meeting. A chance to finally touch that world and be acknowledged for my talents at long last. Nothing but dreams now. What ifs and might have beens.
It becomes more frustrating these days especially when it seems like the lives of nearly everyone around me seem to be improving and getting better, while mine remains stagnant. One friend gets a raise while another has success with his mail order business. Meanwhile I’m sitting on my ass day after day looking for a job and writing books and scripts no one will ever read. Languishing in this little corner of hell for who knows how long. Now, for the record, I’m not complaining. I’m venting. (Don’t you love how we can complain and call it ‘venting’?)
I just wish I had some other talent. If I were an actor, I could go out and audition. If I were a painter, I could paint. As a photographer I could take pictures and display them online. If I were a singer I could make videos for Youtube. Any other profession, I could go out and do something proactive and make this dream come true. As a writer I spend months, sometimes years, writing something and then I spend even longer trying to get it seen. No one reads anymore so books are almost pointless these days, and everyone and their nephew is a screenwriter and it seems the older you get, the less people want to read what you have. The world thinks you’re not edgy or smart enough. I just can’t take feeling trapped like this. I have nothing to do but wait until November when my book comes out and then pray that a door is opened. If it comes out at all. I haven’t heard from the publisher in months so I’m going completely on faith that everything is still on track, but I have a very bad feeling I’m in for a nasty surprise four months from now. Praying I’m wrong, but it’s not the first time I’ve been led down the primrose path of accomplishment. I have gotten so close so many times and something always manages to sneak in and queer the deal.
Sorry this post is so down. I’m just feeling the need to unburden this negativity out of my mind. Sometimes it helps to share the pain. If only to find a sympathetic ear at the very least.