You probably can't tell I'm now sleep-deprived. I know--I'm a rock and hide my feelings well.
Well kiddies, day two hasn't been quite as stellar an experience as day one. Last night after posting my blog, I went right to work and cranked out a 2,200 word short-story that I have some waiting for, and posted it this morning at my normal bed-time of 6 a.m. for critique.
At 7 this evening, the reviews were in: bin it, it sucks with no redeemable qualities.
Now. I'm not ashamed to say, this stung me just a wee bit. I may be an idiot with delusions that she can make it as a writer, and I may have smelled my socks a time or two before I put them on, but I have my pride.
Needless to say, now I'm completely doubting everything I put into chapter one last night, and as of this minute, I've written all of one sentence in chapter two, with no immediate plans of continuing. Why should I? If I can't even get a teeny 2,200 word short-story right, what chance do I have with an 80,000 word novel?
I'm currently so aggravated that if given the chance, I'd put my computer through its appropriate "Windows," and bite the head off nails. Eh, why not. I don't get enough iron in my diet.
Until tomorrow. Hopefully you won't have to peel me from the keyboard shrieking, "Why me, God, WHY ME?"