I walk in the valley of the shadow of deadlines

Here follows a rather introspective post - feel free to skim if this is not your bag!

I had a rather unpleasant exchange with someone on Twitter yesterday, in which an offhand tweet of mine ("Looks like this chapter is going to take all day. Oh well") prompted this person (a blogger whose posts I greatly enjoy) to say that (I'm paraphrasing, not quoting directly, and I also seem to be using a rather large number of brackets) a) I should stop complaining because thousands of more deserving people would love to be in my position ('sitting around' writing); b) mediocre writers get published while good ones don't, and I fall into the former category; c) I had not earned my aforesaid 'position' as a full-time writer because I hadn't worked for it and didn't deserve it; and d) publication is due mostly to luck and talent only plays a tiny part, as evidenced in my case. There were a few other points as well, but you get the idea.

Now, people are entirely within their rights to dislike me and my writing. I have no problem with that. I would rather you didn't write me crazy messages saying so, as happens sometimes - but if you do, that's all right too. Most of the time these sorts of attacks actually have nothing to do with me, and reflect the writer's own frustrations or baggage that he or she is projecting on to me. This often happens with writers who desperately want to be published and take that out on someone who they see as being less worthy. Hey, I'm still new to this game. I can remember what it feels like to send out dozens and dozens of queries and receive just as many rejections, because not long ago I was doing just that, and I may well be doing it again at some point. Blogging can foster a sort of false intimacy, as well, where people see one aspect of your life and read a handful of posts and assume that they know you well enough to form a judgement of your whole character. I can understand that impulse. Also, sometimes people take against me (for some reason I always want to say 'take agin' me' with an Irish accent. I don't know why, it just seems to suit that phrase. Thanks, Marian Keyes) because of the vintage clothing aspect of the blog - they assume that I'm shallow or not intellectual enough to be a writer because I'm interested in clothes and other such 'frivolous' (because I don't necessarily think they're frivolous) things. I can understand that, too. I do not expect nor want everyone to like me or approve of me - it would be very weird if everyone did. In fact, it might open up a parallel universe where hot dogs eat people and Glee is a post-apocalyptic social commentary, or something.

The interesting thing, though, is that I usually shrug these things off, aware that they have very little to do with the real me. Yesterday, though, I was really bothered by this. It took me a while to work out exactly why that was, because logically I should have been able to dismiss it. After thinking about it for a while, though, I realised that this commenter was saying exactly what my own evil little demon (I picture him on my left shoulder) is saying whenever I'm feeling down or discouraged. You're crap! You don't deserve this! You need to do better! You need to work harder! You're just fooling everyone into thinking you're a 'real' writer! They're going to find you out! Once I had recognised that this touched a chord in me because it reflected my own negative voice, I could (metaphorically) bat the little demon off my shoulder and watch him fall to the floor with a strangely attractive SPLAT. He'll be back, I know, but just recognising that he is there and that he is a manifestation of my own uncertainty and fear is a really valuable lesson.

I do believe that any criticism or insult that really hits home does so because it reflects something inside you that you need to address. And, in a funny way, I want to say thank you to my Twitter argument-buddy from yesterday, because he unconsciously helped me to face some of my own self-sabotaging, guilty demons and reaffirm to myself that yes, I do work bloody hard, I am good at my job and I do deserve this, hard as that is to acknowledge sometimes. Again, I am not at all saying that he shouldn't hold that opinion - just that it served an interesting purpose as a solidifying of an internal conflict of my own, and that I am genuinely grateful for that.

And to anyone who thinks they are more deserving - it may well be true. Write an awesome book, rewrite and revise the awesome book, edit the bollocks off it, work really hard on it, get it out into the world, be very persistent and as thick-skinned as possible and get that sucker published. I sincerely wish you good luck (although I personally think luck has very little to do with it!).

(((Sorry about all the brackets))).